


Owned

by Ich_werde_dein_schild



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-01
Updated: 2017-09-01
Packaged: 2018-12-22 15:35:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 42,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11970369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ich_werde_dein_schild/pseuds/Ich_werde_dein_schild
Summary: How did the Fakes become well....the Fakes.((I know the ray/jeremy thing is confusing - i tried to rewrite it - missed things ))





	1. Gavin & Jeremy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on that one denzel movie....you know what fucking one.

Gavin came to Los Santos against his will. His crew in the UK needed to send a present to a crew leader in the crime filled city. They had chosen their prettiest, most prized whore as the boss had said. Gavin had known better than to fight, to scream to push. They had beaten that out of him over the years, since having been picked up at the tender age of twelve. Gavin was always on the cusp of fear since then. Fear of the next beating, the next rape. But by the time he was nineteen a sort of dull veil had descended over him. So he got on the plane, and didn’t let himself vomit at the fear that rolled in his stomach.

 

He had lived on the streets his whole life before then, digging what he could out of trash bins and stealing clothing. When he had been caught one night pickpocketing a high end man from a crew, it was the end of Gavin’s life. He was young and scared. The twelve year old didn’t understand what was going on, he just knew that he was being dragged through a dark warehouse bleeding from his lip. He hadn’t thought this was what would happen. How he’d die. After all of the shit he’d gone through, the abusive and uncaring family, he just couldn’t catch a break. Gavin sighed. 

 

When they got to the warehouse it was cold and the floor was rough. It looked about a few minutes from falling down, and Gavin was sure that his last view was going to be the rusty roof. It took three men to get Gavin under control. He was squirming hard, and kicking, biting trying to escape. Everyone knew that the crew here was part of The Cockbites, a U.S. crew that was expanding, and getting bigger and bigger. Gavin knew that it was over, as he had tried to pickpocket some guy named Burns. 

 

~~~~_____~~~~____~~~~

 

Los Santos was exactly as he had thought it would be. Full to the brim with criminals, and the boss he was given to, Glasgow (prick thought he was so clever) was a slimey, tall, greasy-haired mobster who wanted to have good connection across the pond. The man had grinned and started sending Gavin out on tricks without so much as a glance. He was exotic the man had said, and quickly became the highest priced whore. He didn’t care much at all, he wasn’t considered a human being anyways. 

 

Gavin was angry at first, silent and glaring. These american assholes thought they were so smart, so untouchable. But soon the beatings took a sinister turn, they were trying to make him pliant and dependant on them; shooting him up with drugs every once in while, beating him, though never around the face. 

 

The brit would breath through it, close his eyes and count to three. Shoving his anger away, allowing fear to come to the front. The thugs liked the fear, made it easier to placate them with it. But the anger was always there too, but after so long as a thing, an object, Gavin forgot about it. He moved on to taking it day by day, to make sure he survived his next trick and get back to the stables, (the barracks where they kept their merchandise). Thirty people in all, mostly girls, all young. So young that it made Gavin feel old. Ancient in the business, even at nineteen. They ignored each other primarily, either too high, or too scared to interact. It was like seeing the walking dead, all shuffling around, eyes blank and bodies shivering. It made Gavin sick, made him want to end it all. Kill them all, take them away from the stables and just shoot them in the head. Then burn it down. It came to a surprise one day when another worker, another guy walked up to him one day. So surreal, so strange. The hispanic boy could have only been sixteen or seventeen, sporting a black eye and a split lip. 

 

“Yo.” The other sat down and Gavin turned his head, looking at him with raised eyebrows. 

 

“Hi.” 

 

“So I’m Jeremy, sniper. Made a bad deal.” Jeremy said with a shrug. 

 

“Gavin, got nabbed as a kid.” It was surreal, looking at or even talking to someone who wasn’t a client. It was strange in the end, but not unpleasant. Just strange. 

 

“Wow that sucks.” Jeremy’s deadpan voice made Gavin quirk a smirk. 

 

Their friendship came fast, built around mutual pain and horrible jokes. It consisted of stitching each other up, and getting each other through the panic attacks that accompanied beatings and rapes. It was the only thing that seemed happy. His time with Jeremy, laughing at Jeremy’s stories of when he was a professional sniper. He was one of the best, or when he trolled in videogames mostly running in and dying in games. It was the best time he can remember having. Hanging out between tricks sometimes, and after beatings. Patching the other up, or being patched up. 

 

Between tricks he began to frequent a diner, eating the cheap food he could afford. Usually a piece of pie and tea. The crew didn’t mind, as long as he made it to his clients without any complaints. They expected him somewhere and he went, putting out when they wanted. The ever present fear and low anger made him think that it was the least they could do, allow him a bloody tea and pie break. And surprisingly they did. Mingey americans. The cook during those night owl hours, Zeno, knew him by name, knew to get him pie and tea without prompting. It was frighteningly normal, Gavin realized. But he liked it, the overly sugary pies and the lukewarm tea. It made him feel like a normal stiff. 

 

Zeno was a sweet enough guy. He ran a small drug operation out of the diner and knew exactly what Gavin was going through. He was a large man, both wide and tall. He wasn’t the owner of the diner but he said that the owner thought it funny as hell that he grew pot in the basement. Gavin could believe it, he swore all the people in this god forsaken city were dirty. Dirty cops, dirty shop owners. All aligned with one crew or another. Glasgow was, in the long run a small fish but well enough known that no one seemed bothered to challenge him. The big fish too busy with running the city and the little guys too intimidated. 

 

Gavin had met a lot of politicians in his time in Los Santos, and they were all not too bad. Not violent or rough, but there were greedy, he realized, and treated him as little more than meat. Though he supposed all the clients did. Conversation was always about what they wanted to do to him. He was a good actor, that he knew. Glasgow, one of the few time he’d seen him had commented how he had “doe eyes” whatever the fuck that meant. Made him look innocent, and his stature didn’t help all that much either. 

 

Dressed to the nines, tight jeans, sneakers and a tight shirt Gavin stood in front of the dingy mirror in the stables. He could see Jeremy trying to fix his hair flat, and away from a large cut on his head. The other boy looking about ready to punch something. Three months in that hell hole and Gavin could tell that Jeremy had an almost constant thrum of anger behind his smiley exterior. Friends were few and far between in this business. It was a good thing, he knew, to have someone who seemed to care about him in some way. 

 

Sauntering over to Jeremy he slung his arm over the shorter man’s shoulders. “ ‘ey Lil J, you ready for a horrible night on the town?” 

 

“So excited.” 

 

~~~~____~~~~____~~~~

 

Two years after first coming to Los Santos Gavin’s life had fallen into the terror that came with being a ‘escort’ to the slowly rising Glasgow Crew. In one of the only times he had peace he met Ryan. The man came to the diner in the night just like Gavin. Always sat in the same corner, back to a wall, brought his own tea bag and a book. The man was tall, broad shouldered and held a sense of barely restrained power. Gavin had caught himself staring the first time the man had come in and sat down. But had averted his gaze when cool blue eyes had snapped to meet his own. 

 

When the guy had first walked in, Gavin felt a flash of fear. Expecting him to be one of Glasgow’s thugs, having been drug out of the diner a few times before for the enjoyment of the low lives of the crew. The barely restrained power is what made him decide he had misread it. The man was very obviously dangerous, or paranoid. Gavin would put money on both, because he always sat facing the doors but he never glanced nervously towards them. He never looked around except for the normal sweep of his head when he walked in the first time. Gavin had seen dangerous men before, and paranoid too. But none held the calm that seemed to come with the mysterious man in the corner. 

 

Over the next few weeks Gavin tried to observe the guy without catching his gaze again. But it was hard since every time he seemed to look up, the guy was staring at him. 

 

“Staring is rude.” The man’s voice was low and rumbled through the quiet of the diner. It sent a quite, genuine shiver down Gavin’s back. 

 

“Sorry.” Gavin turned away fully, sitting normally in the chair instead of lounging like he had been. He began to slowly eat his pie again, his mouth painful to open after his last trick. Just thinking back to the night’s events made his stomach clench in that low boiling rage always behind the fear. 

 

“Do you know how bad for you that pie is?” The man spoke again. Gavin stopped a bite halfway to his mouth and turned to see the man staring at him. The blue eyes were piercing, like shards of icy, blue glass. He swallowed involuntarily, mouth suddenly dry. He could see the smirk playing on the man’s face, it was small but Gavin could feel the guy sizing him up.  

 

Zeno the cook called from the kitchen called out. “Leave the kid alone Ryan.” The large Greek man leaned his head out the window and glared at the lighter haired man. The unmistakable smell of weed followed the cook, who slapped another piece of pie on the plate staring down Ryan. 

 

“It’s the least on my problems.” Gavin said before he realised he had spoken. Freezing he could feel Ryan’s eyes boring into his back, so he slapped a few crumpled dollars on the counter and left. Hunching over on himself, he could get beaten if anyone ever found he had said anything. Anything at all, he was supposed to be in the delusion of having the greatest life ever, many of the other whores lived in that bliss. But not him, never him. He’d been raised in this, and the drugs only made him wish he was dead faster. He knew that his life was fucked. The ever present fear and simmering rage in his gut was proof of that. 

 

He’d called one of the pickups and waited, hands in his pockets outside the diner. But he could still feel the gaze from inside the diner. It made him nervous. Did this smegpot ever blink, Jesus. Chancing a glance over his shoulder he met Ryan’s eyes. The man’s head was tilted like an interested cat, and he slowly took a sip of his tea as Gavin watched. A smirk on his lips.

 

Four nights later, after a series of clients who had left him black and blue everywhere but his face Gavin sat at the counter again. Barely able to lift his fork to his mouth. Zeno put a straw in his tea, earning a small smile from the brit. Sitting in the corner was Ryan again, steadily reading his book. When he had stumbled out of the limo, barely able to catch himself on the pavement he’d felt the gaze. His clothes he knew were tattered, hanging off his frame. Zeno came out in a few minutes, slapping down a bowl of porridge, on the house. Slowly he ate some of it, and it settled his stomach, and warmed his throat. Gavin turned his eyes towards the long haired man and watched him for a bit before he spoke. 

 

“What are you reading?” The older name looked up, meeting his eyes. The gaze was assessing. Gavin didn’t know what the other was looking for. 

 

“For Whom the Bell Tolls.” Said the man.

 

“Is it any good?” Gavin took a small sip from his tea, it soothed his raw throat. His hands shook and he could see Ryan gazing at the trembling cup. 

 

“Interesting enough. Have you read Hemingway before?” Ryan had closed his book and was looking at Gavin with an interested air. But Gavin felt like he could see right through him, seen the tapped ribs, the bruises and cuts.

 

“I...uh...I don’t get to read much.” Gavin took the smallest bite of pie and looked down, a bit embarrassed at his lack of answer.  

 

“Ah well, I think you should definitely look into it. Reading is quite fun.” Gavin could feel the ice blue eyes drilling into him. 

 

“Maybe.” 

 

~~~~___~~~~~____~~~~

 

Weeks and months passed like this. Gavin eating his pie at the counter, Ryan at his table reading. They always chatted for a bit before going silent. But Gavin felt much more comfortable with the man than he probably should. The man never did anything that should make him nervous. Didn’t seem to have any weapon but the knife on his thigh. It didn’t hurt that Gavin thought he was devastatingly attractive. All long legs and broad shoulders. The dirty blond ponytail, always swept over one shoulder. It was his eyes though, that made Gavin a bit weary. Like flecks of winter in summer, calculating and silent. Like death.

 

~~~~_____~~~~~____~~~~

 

“What you reading now?” 

 

“A Tale of Two Cities.”

 

“Do ya like it?”

 

“Not so much, but I’m going to read it.” 

 

“If ya don’t like it, then why keep reading it?”

 

“Never know what it might teach me.” 

 

~~~~~~_________~~~~~~~~~~______~~~

 

“I read a book yesterday.”

 

“Oh?”

 

“Yeah one of them kids books, Goosebumps?” 

 

“Did you enjoy it?”

 

“Yah, I did.” 

 

“Good.”

 

~~~~_____~~~~~____~~~

 

“Ever gonna not get that sugar infused death food?”

 

“Oi, my pie is offended.”

 

“My deepest apologies.”

 

~~~~____~~~~____~~~

 

“What happened to your fingers?”

 

“Ah, nothing. Slammed them in a door.” 

 

“Mmm.”

 

“Wot?” 

 

“You ever think you can change your life?”

 

“Not bloody likely.”

 

“Hmmm.”

 

~~~~____~~_~_~____ 

 

Gavin sat, one foot dangling, one foot on the stool next to him picking at his pie. He wore tight black jeans and a silk shirt. His ribs ached and his back stung where a client had gotten a little over excited. But for the most part he was whole, something that rarely happened. Glasgow liked to give him the violent clients, seeing as he was exotic and they liked hurting him more for it and pay more to do it. He was halfway through his pie when Ryan came striding into the diner and sat down. Gavin tried not to let his gaze linger too long, but from Zeno’s chuckle through the order window he probably failed.

 

The tall man sat, picked up first the fork and then knife separately setting them to the side where the condiments were. Then he lined up the napkin with his spoon next to the spine of his book, which was faced down. Zemo quickly brought a mug and the hot water filling up the tall man’s mug before returning to the kitchen. All part of the routine. Gavin left the man alone for a few moments before getting up and moving to sit across from him. Ryan looked up as he approached, freezing in stirring his tea. His face was unreadable, and Gavin felt fear bubble up his throat. The brit. stood awkwardly for a moment.

 

“Sorry, breaking protocol or something.” He went to turn away when the seat across from the silent man pushed out. It was such a measured bit of motion the brit. noticed, not many people had that much control over their limbs. Ryan was all measured. He’d noticed that over the months, every movement was calculated perfectly. Gavin sat gingerly, making sure his back didn’t hit the back of the chair. Ryan placed his book aside and Gavin watched the older man’s hands, they were broad and scarred a bit. 

 

“Did the guy catch the fish yet?” Gavin asked. 

 

Ryan smiled a bit. “Not yet, but he’s getting there.” he tapped the book on the table. The tapping came in bursts of five, slow tap--tap--tap--tap--tap and then a small pause before resuming.

 

“How many books have you read?” Gavin asked brows creased. Interested, Jeremy had snuck him another goosebumps book and Gavin had thought it was a great bit of fun. Jeremy had been taking them from the library but thought Gavin would like them. He was right. 

 

“Had a list of 100.” Ryan perked a brow, but smiled lightly. “All the books someone should ever read.” 

 

“How far are you?” Gavin was smiling despite himself. 

 

“Read 92 so far.” Ryan was gazing steadily at him, eyes not moving from his face. He wasn’t used to such laser focus. Most people he had the pleasure of being in the company of didn’t seem to realise he had eyes, or a brain. 

 

“Almost done!” Gavin grinned, and it felt strange on his lips. 

 

“Yeah.” Gavin’s phone lit up, Glasgow’s name clear across the screen, but he ignored it. He didn’t have any more tricks that night and he was tired enough not to care. The bitter rage within him rushed him with dark satisfaction at slighting the crew boss just in that small way.

 

They spoke for twenty minutes and Ryan offered to walk the lanky brit to the gas station down the road with an easy smile. The conversation flowed easily between them, almost a year of small talk and let them have a few inside jokes. But Gavin could see the other man’s mind working, moving smoothly through calculated steps, and arm movements. Though he spoke normally, the cadence of his voice was strange. The two walked close, Ryan with his book tucked under his arm looking comfortable in the heat in the leather jacket he always seemed to wear. Gavin had a brief fantasy of this being a date, where he gets walked home and kissed sweetly on the cheek. He wouldn’t mind so much if it were Ryan, in fact the man seemed nice. Nice in the way that he seemed to understand what Gavin was in the middle of, and could help him. Not nice in the next door neighbor way. It was as stark contrast to what he was used to. Rough hands and beatings. Broken bones. Gavin shook his head. 

 

“I always wanted to learn computer stuff, and play games.” Gavin said.

 

“You could always do that, your life is your own.” Ryan said watching the lad bounce next to him. 

 

“I wish. It’d be top.” Gavin grinned, swinging his arms back and forth happily. “I could be a hacker, or something. Something that was useful and cool.” Gavin’s fantasy moved from a date to being on a crew with Ryan. Working as a team, killing people and getting money. 

 

“Or you could do IT, live a normal life.” Ryan looked over at the younger man. “It’s never too late to claim your life.”

 

Gavin looked down at the pavement, biting his lip. “I’m not sure, ya know. After all the shit that has happened in my life, I think I’m pretty much trapped. I haven’t told you much and if I did, well.” Gavin shrugged. “This is about as happy as I get, and well, thanks for that.” 

 

As this left his mouth a sleek black car pulled up in front of them and Glasgow climbed out of the back. Gavin froze, eyes going wide in fear. He’d fucked up. Had forgot about the call, about ignoring it. He felt Ryan tense next to him, and had a brief thought that Ryan was going to defend him. But he knew for some reason the other wouldn’t. The mobster strode forward, grabbing Gavin by his hair. 

 

“They fuck you think you’re doing ignoring my calls?” The man spat. Glasgow had put on weight since Gavin had first met him, looking more like a greasy, cheese puff now than a crew boss. Gavin caught a glimpse of Ryan, whose head was tilted reminding Gavin of a cat again. But it was different somehow the way he watched this and the way he had watched Gavin the first time. Like a leopard staring down prey, a sleek black coat and sharp teeth ready. The taller man was tapping the knife on his thigh. Tap--tap--tap--tap--tap. Gavin didn’t get why he noticed that. 

 

“I’m sorry, I...I wasn’t thinking.” Gavin sputtered, and gasped as he was punched in the gut and tossed into the back of the car. He looked out of the window, noticing Ryan glance briefly at him, before his eyes turned back to the men. He wasn’t scared. Ryan stood there, shoulders relaxed and feet a little wider apart but looking at ease. Book still tucked under his arm. 

 

“Bitch is going to be on the pole here soon, can’t trust his ass.” The man said to the larger man who had climbed out of the driver’s seat gun in hand. Gavin knew him, knew the guy had killed two of the girls from the stables three weeks ago. It felt like an ice bucket had been dumped over his head.

 

“What about ‘im?” The gorilla of a man asked, pointing the gun at Ryan who stood still, eyes hooded. No fear.

 

“Give him a card.” Glasgow said with a smirk.

 

Ryan took the card with two fingers and looked at it, brows raised. 

 

“Don’t hesitate to call if you want this bitch for a night.” 

 

As they pulled away, Glasgow’s hand clamped painfully over Gavin’s knee he could still see Ryan. Staring at the card, fingers on his knife. Tap--tap--tap--tap--tap.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~______~~~~~

 

Ryan had come to the diner for the past two weeks and hadn’t seen the boy, Gavin. It had taken very little searching to find a name for the sex worker. Glasgow was infamous for treating his assets poorly. That was why Ryan began to feel the pang of worry in his gut, against his better judgement he had grown attached to the other. Finding his strange innocence interesting, seeing as he was neck deep in criminals. It wasn’t strange Ryan knew, having been fixated on people before, killing those who looked like them for weeks. Getting it out of his system before going to them, drawing it out. But this was different, a sort of fixation he hadn’t felt but one time. The diner was uninteresting now, without the boy. Dressed like a sex doll, eating the pie the best he could with how often he was injured.

 

But the boy hadn’t shown up for weeks, and Ryan had a sinking feeling in his gut. Knew the type of things Glasgow was known for, though he’d never done what his name sake was for. Ryan wasn’t comfortable knowing that Gavin was missing.

 

For days after the two week mark of receiving that card, and watching Gavin get thrown into a car Ryan began his search. He did it normally at first, dressed in faded jeans and t-shirts. He stumbled around clubs and bars he knew Glasgow ran out of, asking for a lanking blond trick. Asking about Gavin in vague ways, trying to find him, to see him. Looking for a limey, twink and getting a shrug or a lecherous smirk. When that did nothing for five days, Ryan gave up with playing nice. Glasgow had always been a pain in the ass for Los Santos, and Ryan had never taken a job from him. So he donned his mask and began to prowl the streets, asking questions, bruising his knuckles and bloodying his knife. At first people laughed, the first few seeing him in the dark skull and been amused. Assuming he was some sort of small fry. But soon he was able to get them to sing like little birds. Carving their skin away slowly as they sang and sang. All of Glasgow’s secrets, secrets like he wasn’t the real boss. Secrets that made Ryan grin under his mask, eyes hardening as it went on and on. 

 

He broke his murder break, and it felt good. When he sank his blade into the first rat, gutting him and watching the blood sprinkle the floor and his boots, it was amazing and euphoric. He’d never been sexually aroused by murder, oh no. It was like a good high though, a reason drugs had never interested him. Drugs fogged your mind, murder made his mind reel but his focus became so clear. Details sharpened and it was amazing. He loved watching the blood swirl down the drain in his shower.

 

When he finally found the brit, he was back in his normal persona and standing outside the ICU waiting to sneak in. Something in his head, that dark beast part was pushing...pushing to get out, to kill more. But he waited for the nurses to leave their stations so he could sneak by.

 

When he did, another kid sat by the brit. so Ryan snuck into the next room. Reading his lips. The other kid was short, stocky and cute in the way only earnest people can be. He wore the same type of clothing that Gavin tended to wear for his work. It made Ryan’s stomach roll, they were young. But it seemed as if they were familiar with each other. Sitting close, the shorter one leaning down close to Gavin’s head where it was propped up. Friends then, he narrowed his eyes briefly, a dark hand of jealously clawing up his throat. 

 

“They were trying to make an example of you.” The kid said some type of accent changed in mouth moment a bit, but Ryan could still read his lips,  and Gavin just nodded slightly. “Dude, you shouldn’t have ignored that call.” The answering tiny shrug made the dark hair youth sigh, lean forward and kiss the brit.’s head. “Gavin, stop being stupid.” the man said making Gavin laugh. 

 

Ryan moved out and sat in the hallway, book open on his lap. He tapped on the cover’s edge, watching for the kid. Wanting to seem as normal as possible. He wasn’t going to go visit Gavin himself, seeing it as a risk. Glasgow had already hurt him once, Ryan wouldn’t risk it again. Seeing as he had killed so many of them already. The kid came walking down the hallway, wiping his eyes as he half stumbled towards the coffee pot. The kid was tired, that much was obvious and Ryan could see the red rims of his eyes. He was young as well, maybe nineteen. Ryan watched out of the corner of his eye as a paper cup was grabbed and placed under the spout, only to quickly overflow. Putting on his genial persona, one he used so often in the last year, especially with Gavin, he surged forward. 

 

“Hey woah.” The taller man said turning off the spigot and grabbing a fist full of napkins. The coffee lukewarm, and smelled burnt. Wrinkling his nose Ryan began to swipe the mess up. 

 

“Sorry, bladder problems” The kid deadpanned, a boston accent thick. Amusing. Ryan could see why Gavin liked him.

 

“Nah, it’s okay. Accidents happen.” Ryan placed the southern drawl in his voice that seemed to put people at ease. “How is he?” Ryan asked not making eye contact. 

 

He felt more than saw the youth pull away from him. “Who the fuck are you man?” He looked up and found eyes narrowed in suspicion. He was in a slight fighting stance, but looked more like he’d run then attack. For a second Ryan’s heart picked up pace, itching to grab his knife. But this was Gavin’s friend so he smiled gently. 

 

“A friend.” Ryan said handing over another napkin. Silence fell and the kid seemed to be warring with himself. 

 

“They almost killed him. How do ya think?” Ryan hummed in response, and finished cleaning up the coffee with quick efficient movements. No sense in taking longer than necessary. 

 

Ryan stood up and met the kid’s eyes. “Thank you.” 

 

“Well this has been a great chat.” The boy deadpanned again and watched as Ryan stood straight and walked away, book tucked under his arm. The deadpan humor coating fear and frustration made Ryan smile as he walked away. “Naw, no that’s fine. I’m totally used to mysterious men. Makes me feel right at home.” The boy grumbled and grabbed another cup. “Asshole.”

  
  


~~~~~~~~~~~_________~~~~~~~~~

 

Ryan stood outside Geoff’s apartment, trying to decide if getting help from the other man was smart, because that would certainly drag in Jack and then that redhead spit fire that seemed to tag along with them. But if he was going after Glasgow, Geoff would want in. No matter the reasoning. With a deep sigh, he knocked solidly on the door. 

 

Geoff answered the door, missing his suit jacket, and his bow tie undone around his throat. The mustached man had his sleeves rolled up to reveal his heavily tattooed arms. His half mast, blue eyes blinked in surprise. The whole image made Ryan’s mouth go dry, even after so long he still couldn’t deal with the leader of the Fake AH Crew, without emotion somewhere in his brain cheering out. 

 

“Ryan, this is a surprise.” Ryan watched the man’s eyes sweep his form, could see the cogs turning. His heart picked up and he wanted to grab the man but he just tapped his fingers lightly on his leg.

 

“Let me in.” 

 

“Wow, Jesus fine get in here.” The man backed up letting the taller man pass into the huge apartment. Ryan stalked forward caught sight of Jack and the spitfire on the couch, Mogar still looked just as young and delectable. “What do ya want, buddy?” The tattooed man strode past, picking back up a half empty tumbler of amber liquid. Ryan watched the crew boss take a sip, eyes on his throat. Eyes tracking the adam’s apple like a beast about to strike. The small tick at the other’s mouth let Ryan know he’d been caught.

 

“I’m wiping out Glasgow, do you want in?” Geoff’s eyes immediately met his, and narrowed. The playful air wooshed out of the room, as the tattooed man placed the glass back down and put his hands in his pockets.

 

“Fuck yes.” Geoff smiled. Cold and sharp like a knife. Ryan’s heart picked up again, he resisted licking his lips. “He piss you off?” 

 

“In a way.” He tilted his head, and Geoff perked a brow. 

 

“You get me the details, I’ll send out my crew.” 

 

“I’m not sitting this out.” Ryan said lowly. 

 

“What about your murder break, it’s been almost a year.” Geoff pulled his hands out of his pockets and crossed his arms. “You said you wanted out.” The tone the smaller man used was not sharp but solid and heavy with an old anger.

 

“Maybe I just can’t get out.” Ryan growled and met Jack’s eyes over the leader’s shoulder. Jack was staring at him like he’d come back from the dead, then he remembered the blood on his face. He’d gone to kill a few more low lives to calm his nerves after seeing Gavin, pulling information from the as he peeled the skin from their hands. Geoff has probably noticed as soon as he opened the door. But the spitfire and Jack were just taking him in. But it was Jack’s stare, the one that said he was disappointed that Ryan couldn’t keep it up that made him turn back to Geoff. 

 

Geoff sighed, and shook his head. “Fuck it, can’t talk you outta shit anyways.” His tattooed hands rubbed his face, then he met the taller man’s eyes. “How far are we gonna go?”

 

“His crew will be a smear on the pavement, Ramsey.” Ryan said staring dead eyed at him.

 

“Fuck.” Under the surprise was a blood thirst which reminded Ryan why he liked this man so much. 

 

Ryan threw a folder on the table behind the couch, it was thick and heavy. “That is all the information. I will be on my own, taking out certain targets. You raise hell.” 

 

“What we do best.” Geoff turned towards Jack. “Get as many people on the phone as we can, tell ‘em to meet up at the east side warehouse, ready to raise some fucking shit.” The tattooed man turned back around, only to find Ryan gone. He smiled and shook his head. “Guess that little twink got under his skin.” 

 

What kind of guy would he be if he didn’t have his ex’s stalked? 

 

~~~~~_____~~~~~~_____~~~~~~

 

Ryan watched the over priced strip club with a bland face. Glasgow had just wandered in a few moments ago, a woman on one arm, the boy from the hospital on the other. With his mask firmly in place, no one could see him within the shadows. It was nearing two in the morning, when he made his approach. The two guards at the front saw him, and froze briefly. He had heard the rumors buzzing about himself, a boogeyman tale, the grim reaper. Their brief pause allowed him to shoot them both with silenced shots, the quiet sound unable to be heard over the pounding sound in the club. 

 

It was barely guarded, a year ago there would have been twice the firepower. A year ago every crew but the Fake AH’s had been terrified of him. Scared of seeing the grey skull, of being massacred. They had known that he was connected to the great Geoff Ramsey somehow, but after a year of silence he guessed they thought he was gone. Such a naive thought, thinking someone like him would just disappear. Oh no, he just wanted a murder break. Had decided that when he finished his books that he might go back to it, or not. He hadn’t decided until Gavin. But seeing the other crew’s get sloppy, oh did it give a reason to chuckle as he stalked through the guards, having dragged the bodies into the alley. 

 

The club itself was loud, the writhing of bodies and stippers making it almost muggy inside, but Ryan ignored it. At one time this had been his hunting ground, clubs and strip clubs. That was years ago when his...affliction still made him fixate almost non-stop. But now, now he just liked to pick and choose. Watching whoever pleased him die under his hands, his mind going to that place where he could shut down and kill anyone. Half of the Los Santos underworld seemed to be at this place, so much cattle so little time. Leering at girls whose eyes were blank and cold from abuse, sad and really not fun prey at all. He was a criminal in every way, but he had never liked abusing his workers. When he had worked for Geoff the only time he had beat one of their street walkers she had tried to swindle money. Sometimes it had to be done, and he hadn’t enjoyed it. Not like the way he enjoyed the fear of men and women in power. But Glasgow took it to a new level. It made a low rage boil in his gut. Killing this man was going to be enjoyable. He knew he wasn’t going to take an out, the pig was to arrogant. So much hubris is such a slimy package. That was the problem with most of the criminals rising today; they had no caution all gunfire and abuse. That is what made the Fake AH Crew a step up, they got caution and loyalty. They had Geoff at the helm, all cool eyes and pure danger.

 

People parted in his wake, eye wide and shaking. No one knew his name, but they knew the mask. It was known that he was merciless, and he had been missing for a year. A whole year of silence. But it seemed he wasn’t as forgotten as he had supposed. He drank in the fear, it warmed his soul, what was left of it. The fear of the waitresses and workers, and of the clients. Some standing abruptly and stepping backwards. He reached the VIP room with ease and watched the security guy gulp visibly at him. Such a pretty display of fear.

 

“Inform Glasgow, he has company.” He said and stood there menacing as the shaking security guard spoke into his ear piece. This kid was young, but he had seen the dark sheen on the other’s eye before he walked up. Dark intentions but so boring. So normal. 

 

“Go on up.” the man stuttered pushing open the door and stepping out of Ryan’s way. Only to have Ryan’s knife in his throat, and him tossed behind a curtain to the side, blood pooling out from behind it.

 

The stairs were steep and narrow. Ryan reached the top easily enough though, taking in the opulent floor and golden designed wallpaper. It was so gauche and over the top that Ryan sneered behind his mask. These new criminals and their flaunting money. Fancy cars not built for speed, built of luxury. Weapons that were more art pieces than killing implements. Jewelry covering every limb, making them so easy to spot in the dark. The two large double doors swung open as he approached, and he counted eight men in the room, including the boy from the hospital who was sitting in someone’s lap. The kid had a split lip that was freshly bleeding, his sunglasses cracked. Ryan tilted his head a bit and stared at the kid. 

 

“Ah well, I ain’t never met someone like you before.” Glasgow laughed behind his desk, the desk was huge a oak. Probably imported. Ryan turned his head and took in the orange tinted, underboss. Sure he led the small crew and sex and drug operations. But oh no, such an underdog playing a chief of command. 

 

“I’m here to give you an out.” Ryan said, trying hard not just attack first. But he wanted to, just wanted to strike out feel blood on his hands. Striding forward he slapped a large envelope on the desk. “Fifty grand and a ticket out of town. This is your only chance.” Ryan stood back blue eyes, staring bored out of his mask. There was a brief flicker in the larger man’s eyes, maybe recognition. Ryan was unsure.

 

Glasgow laughed, slapping his hand on the desk. “Can you believe this asshole! This fucking city is mine, you ain’t got shit to scare me with. So you should take that cash and get the fuck out.” The goons were chuckling around the room, but the boy was staring at Ryan with laser focus. That peaked his interest and he turned his head slightly. He’d only ever seen snipers with that type of focus, but the kid turned his head away. 

 

“Last chance.” Ryan said walking back towards the door, leaving the envelope on the table. His stride was relaxed and lazy. No rush, just patience. He had plenty of that, never went into a frenzy like he’d seen others with his affliction do. Iron willed control. 

 

“Did I fucking stutter you cunt! Get out.” Glasgow yelled. 

 

Ryan nodded, reaching up to open the door, only to close it and open it five times slowly. This was to calm his own mind, not let the rage overpower him, lest he kill the kid too on accident. He didn’t want to kill Gavin’s friend. The kid was interesting, although he was stuck in the same place Gavin was, he was different. Ryan wanted to know more. 

 

“The fuck is with this guy, OCD prick. Did you forget something?” Glasgow had stood up from his chair, as Ryan turned back around. The other men stood up, one pushing the kid to the floor roughly. Ryan looked at the kid and tilted his head. The kid seemed to understand and scurried behind the couch on hands and knees.

 

“One-mississippi” Ryan muttered. Eyes drifting lazily around the room. 

 

“Get this asshole the fuck outta here.” Glasgow sat down heavily, and lounged back into his chair. 

 

The first kill was brutal, Ryan stepped up to the first guard and stabbed him in the throat, snatched his gun and shot Glasgow through the throat. Another man came at him but he grabbed his throat blocking two shots from another man with the dangling man, before slamming his eye into one of the coat hangers near the door. Ryan moved quickly, killing the next two with his bare hands, snapping necks. The last two were by the bar, one half ducked down, hands shakily trying to unjam his gun. Ryan slammed his head through the bar, the broken bottle slamming through the man’s throat. The last man stumbled as he approached, hands shaking seemingly to have forgotten the gun slipping from his fingers. In the end he was covered in blood, two cork screws in his hands as he walked over to where Glasgow was gasping on the floor like a fish. 

 

“You should have taken the money.” Ryan slid down and sat with his back against the desk. “Your heart is beating so quickly trying to fix the problem of losing blood, in about thirty seconds your body will shut down, and you’ll die. Alone.” Ryan met the mobster’s eyes. “27-mississippi, 28-mississippi, 29-mississippi.” When the man’s eyes went dull Ryan turned to the only other living soul in the room, the boy. 

 

“Come out.” Ryan stood, as fluid as water. 

 

“Oh yeah sure, totally want my spine ripped out.” 

 

“I won’t hurt you. Come out.” Ryan tilted his head as the boy stood, shaking and wide eyed. He was slightly pale and Ryan walked forward as the kid rounded the couch, toeing around the growing puddle of blood. 

 

“Fuckin’ shit tits.” The boy mumbled as he looked around, and then back at the masked man. “You’re like a fucking meat grinder.” 

 

“You will call the only number on this phone, and tell the man who answers it that you need safety. Tell him that Vagabond sent you.” The phone was a burner, but the kid grabbed it without flinching. 

 

The boy grasped the phone out of the man’s hands and began to walk. “When should I-”

 

“When you’re over a mile away.” Ryan picked up the envelope which has someone remain blood free and tucked it into his pocket. The money wasn’t important but he didn’t want to leave much evidence that could be traced to him. This much money was easy to track, even with as careful as he was. 

 

“Who are you?” The boy asked. 

 

“A friend.” That made the boy pause, and he nodded pursing his lips.

 

“I’m Jeremy.” 

 

“Go.” 

 

Jeremy nodded, eyes still wide and headed towards another door which probably went out the back. Ryan stood there for a moment before he headed back down the way he came. Stalking through the dim lights, past patrons who paled at his blood soaked clothing and out the front door. Grinning beneath his mask as he walked back into the shadows of the street. 

 

~~~~~~~~~~~_________~~~~~~~~~~~

 

During his murder break, Ryan had gotten a job at the local hardware store, on the west end of Los Santos. It didn’t pay much, but the people were decent enough and friendly to boot. The hustle and bustle of cutting plywood, and helping housewives pick out ceiling fans calmed the bloodlust in his veins during the day. The bland conversations made it pleasant. Before he met Gavin he had been sure that he could live this way, leaving murder behind for good. 

 

The people there thought he was normal. He’d even helped them, getting one of the men in shape for another job, helping him diet. Teaching some of the young boys he worked with how to be safe on the streets. Flirted with some of the women playfully. It was blissfully normal. He’s done some things during that time, beaten a robber in an alley after he had threatened one of the cashiers. He had lived, but his jaw would never work properly again. But other than a few issues with petty criminals it was so easy to work there. 

 

Coming back, after having broke his break, having spoken with Geoff again. It was surreal, cutting plywood for contractors. Making jokes. His co-workers didn’t seem aware of anything. Which was weird to him, because he felt so different. Felt like he was acting differently. On his lunch break he stood near the back loading docks, slowly eating a sandwich and sipping a diet coke. 

 

“Hey! James!” It was one of the younger boys, maybe seventeen who worked in the lumber section with him. He could see where the kid was hurt, probably running the streets with one of the smaller gangs. Thinking he was so tough, so untouchable. 

 

“Yes?” Ryan looked up and like a wiry smile grace his face. With the kid was another, one who worked in the garden center. They probably ran together, if their closeness was anything to go by. But Ryan knew that Steven, those who had spoken first was in charge, the other kid, he never got his name, always seemed to be following him. 

 

“What was your last job?” Steven grinned. “Bet you never had to cut lumber there.”

 

“You got me there.” Ryan said a grin sneaking onto his face. This was another game he liked. The secret identity thing, like he was a superhero. It was amusing he guessed to be seen as normal, though it was no surreal after he went back. 

 

“Well what was it?” The other kid asked, he sounded young, but he was tall and lanky. 

 

“He was an accountant!” Steven said with a laugh. Slapping the other kid’s shoulder. 

 

“Naw he was like in the army or some shit, he’s all fit and shit.” The other kid said with a grin.

 

“Oh yeah! Was you a CIA agent or something. All James Bond and shit?” Steven said a grin stretching his face, thinking he was messing with Ryan. 

 

“I was a teacher.” Ryan said simply with a shrug. 

 

“AH boo, what a gym teacher. Making little kiddies run laps.” Steven snapped with a frown. 

 

“English actually.” Ryan said this mildly, adding that weird tone teachers sometimes got. That mild authority that made a lot of younger kids wilt. It worked with Steven and his buddy. 

 

“That’s fucking depressing.” Ryan quirked a brow at the kid. “How’d you get kicked from that job?” 

 

“Killed a man.” Ryan deadpanned, but the boys laughed. Hard, both bending forward and guffawing loudly. They kept trying to talk but would keep setting the other off into peals of laughter. It was strange seeing them so disbelieving. Though they only knew civil him, murder break him. He supposed he could forgive them, let it roll off his back. They had been picking at him since he first arrived. 

 

“You are funny man.” The two wandered around, and Ryan watched them silently before picking up his garbage and tossing it out. He had thought not to long ago that this was his life now, normal and bland. No more murder sprees.

 

But now he knew better. It was who he was, and he couldn’t leave it alone. Before the end of his shift,he grabbed a large hammer and took it home. It was heavy and black, he’d glanced at it every once in awhile during the past year. Seeing its potential. The thought of blood running down the handle made him smile. 

 

That night as he dressed in his gear, body armor beneath his shirt and jacket, skull mask slipped on, face painted he thought of Gavin, and if he was safe. If Glasgow’s underlings had gotten him from the hospital. If Jeremy had gotten to Geoff’s safe house in one piece. Shaking his head he pushed that away, knowing he couldn’t dwell on it. Grabbing the hammer, he walked out of the apartment and to his bike. Not his Ducati or Ninja but a simple bike he’d pieced back together in the last year, missing his bikes. It wasn’t very fast but it did what he needed. If it was possible he’d torch this one soon, and swing by Geoff’s garage to grab his Ducati. 

 

Ryan took off down the road, his mind already concentrated on his mission. He wanted to wipe them off the map, this Glasgow Crew, and knew that Geoff was probably pissed he hadn’t waited for the explosives shipment the tattooed man was waiting for to show up. Knew that Geoff had wanted to start attacking at the same time. Just to make it seem like it was just his crew, not two separate forces. Ryan knew if he was spotted and recognized they’d place it on Geoff, so he wasn’t worried. Ryan was out for blood, and he’d get it one way or another.

 

As he approached the warehouse  he pulled his silenced pistol and took out the two guards and walked past, looking for Jimmy Topaz ( a fake name if he ever heard one ) Glasgow’s second. It was surprising that there wasn’t much firepower. True the warehouse was pretty far out of the city limits. Surrounded by other buildings that had been burned out or just plain collapsing. Ryan supposed that they thought it wasn’t a known location. But he knew, was good at his job. Good at tracking people down both physically and through the computer. He was by no means a hacker but he was good. Able to cover his tracks and uncover other people's mistakes. He swung the hammer by his side, never speeding his pace. Watching a few guards catch sight of him before he shot them down with ease and efficiency. Fear was his game, and he loved it. It washed over him like the smell of good cooking. 

 

Before he had gotten entangled by Geoff’s web of power, money, blood and sex, he’d just done things for the fear. The money being just another perk of what he loved to do. He’d worked all around the world. Easily taking hit after hit, collecting millions of dollars for shooting people who were so boring. During that time he used his reputation to scare people more. Chasing them through the streets, letting them catch a glimpse before disappearing. Notching up their paranoia. So fun. It was like staring at a beautiful piece of art, the fear in the whites of people’s eyes, their quick breathing. So pretty. 

 

When he came to the main room, it was full of crates and had a large folding table in the center, where six men stood, bending over a map. It was very cliche, and Ryan had to stop the chuckle that wanted to escape. The surrounding looked like a b crime movie. The crates stacked like those in Raiders of the Lost Ark, the palettes they sat on bowing under their weight. The men around the table were just as cliche, button ups over t-shirts, gold chains, huge watches, and pathetic looking side arms. 

 

“He was fucking shot, in his strip club. The cameras were taken out two hours before for five blocks each way. This is a fucking gang war.”

 

That, Ryan supposed was Jimmy. He sounded scared, and when Ryan caught sight of him under the swinging light bulb, the man was sweating and obviously nervous. He was heavy set, and looked as if he lived on the ease of fast food, and didn’t really look like he was an underboss. Disgusting. The fear was already wafting through the air, and Ryan could feel goosebumps rising on his arms. His heart picked up and adrenaline beginning to pump through his limbs. 

 

“We haven’t been pushin’ anyone lately, and no one’s been pushin’ us. Who the fuck could it be?” Snapped another man, who was bent more over the map. This one looked like he was trying hard to emulate Charlie Chaplin. It was amusing to the masked man, staring at the mustache and white shirt. 

 

Ryan strolled up, light footed as a cat until he stood right behind one of the men. He took in their appearances and tilted his head, switching gun for a long bladed knife. Up close he could tell none of them would be able to pull their guns fast enough to hit him. Every hand around the table shook, and glistened with sweat. Though they looked concentrated, their eyes were slightly too wide. Easy pickings. He listened to them some more, surprised they hadn’t noticed him, even as he stood just outside the circle of light. 

 

“Could be the fucking Fake AH Crew. Ramsey’s been chew at the fuckin bit to get at our turf.” Jimmy snapped, slamming his hand on the table, right where Ryan could slam the hammer on it. It was like fate Ryan mused as he looked at the hand like a bored animal. 

 

In one move he stabbed the man in front of him, and slammed the hammer on Jimmy’s hand, before throwing the knife into another man’s throat. Moving like a tornado Ryan whipped out three more blades, all which found their marks in throats, or eyes. slowly he turned back to Jimmy who was fumbling with his gun, one had curled to his chest, eyes wide with fear. It made Ryan smile, warmth bursting his chest at the sight of the man so clearly frightened. The smell of blood filled the air, and everything seemed to pause for a moment, Jimmy's hands moving in slow motion as Ryan watched placidly. Jimmy was finally able to unclip his holster and attempt to pull out his gun, but Ryan crouched grabbed the gun and disassembled in with ease. Tsking the man as he did so.

 

“You haven't cleaned your gun in a long him. That’s gonna bite you in the ass Jimmy.” He tilted the gun this way and that in the light. “Could have a misfire this way, not safe at all.” Ryan stood and placed the gun on the table,before turning back into a crouch. “I’m going to ask you some questions, and if you don’t answer,” Ryan shrugged with a sigh. “Then we’ll just have to work through it won’t we?” Behind his mask Ryan grinned at the wild stare in Jimmy’s eyes. 

 

“Fuck you, ya asshole.” Jimmy spat, even though his voice cracked midword.

 

“Oh, now that’s not nice.” Ryan grabbed the man’s shattered hand and squeezed hard. Body relaxed as if he were just lounging around on a Sunday. He could feel the cracked and crushed bones, and how the shifted under his hand. The broken scream made Ryan smile. Standing the masked man grabbed one of the metal folding chairs before kicking the table over and away. It was loud in the silent warehouse, the flipping table thudding to the ground. Dragging Jimmy to it, he zip tied the man with the efficiency of a machine. During this the smell of piss reached his nose and he looked down at Jimmy, noticing the wet stain in the large man’s pants. “Come now Jimmy, we haven’t even started yet.” It was his teacher tone, the one he had used on the kids at the hardware store, and it made Jimmy flinch.

 

Ryan pulled his knife out of the first man’s corpse, and picked up the hammer from the ground, swinging it leisurely by his side. “Now, who is the head of your lovely organization?” 

 

“Eat shit and die, boogyman.” 

 

Ryan tilted his head, punching the man in the gut three times with the hammer before backing up again. The lard was shaking and Ryan relaxed more, rolling his head back and forth on his shoulders. This was something he missed on his murder break, the fear that came before the break. It was like eating all the pie in the world. 

 

“Now, I’ll ask you again.” His voice was mild, like a middle school teacher’s voice. “Who’s the head, he’s mentioned everywhere in your files, but never by name. Who is he?” 

 

“Fuck you.” 

 

“Wrong answer.” 

 

~~~~~____~~~~_____~~~~~

 

It took forty-five minutes for the man to break, then the man had sung. Even as Ryan snapped his fingers and began to slowly peel off the skin and nails. He had just cleaned up his weapons when the warehouse door slid open, causing Ryan to pull his gun and hide in between the crates of stolen goods. He could hear footsteps coming closer, adrenaline pumped through his veins as he waited. The steps were cautious and steady, no fear. Pity. 

 

“Jesus fucking christ.” There was some shuffling. “He’s dead as dicks.” 

 

Ryan frowned before chancing a look around the crates. Sure enough there stood Geoff, gun pointed solidly at the ground, taking in the scene around Jimmy Topaz’s mutilated body. Ryan stepped out into the dim light and was pleased to see Geoff immediately turn and point his gun at him. It shot a wave of attraction through his body, that had Ryan tilting his head silently. Geoff mirrored him, and Ryan smirked. Someone had once said, that they were creepily in sync sometimes. It was probably Jack, the only real person who knew how fucked up Geoff was, and how much like Ryan he was underneath the playful exterior. 

 

“You weren’t kidding. Smear on the pavement.” Geoff said a bit breathlessly. 

 

“I do not mince words.” 

 

“Yeah, I can see that asshole. What’d you get from him?” Geoff stepped over the large puddle of blood and towards the map that had fluttered to the ground from the tipped table. He squatted, and then took some pictures of it with his phone. The man’s pristine white shoes shone in the darkness of the warehouse, and Ryan watched him. He’d forgotten how nice it was to see someone just accept his work, even appreciate it. 

 

“A name.” Ryan holstered his gun, and went back to wiping down the hammer with a piece of another dead man’s shirt. “I’m going to rip apart their whole operation.” Ryan stared blankly at Topaz’s body, not seeing Geoff’s startled stare behind him. 

 

~~~~____~~~~~____~~~

 

Geoff was an honest, ok not honest, but a guy who knew when to keep his cards to his chest and when to lay them out. And he’d be the first to tell you that when he first met Vagabond it did all the right things for him. Which would worry a normal person, but he never thought of himself as normal. He’d killed too many and hurt too many to have anything to say about the mercenary who could take down anyone asked of him. Jack said he was crazy, Geoff didn’t disagree. But the way the man stalked through his warehouse when they worked together, like a tiger in a cage. All smooth movement and contained power just did things.

 

When he’d first pulled Vagabond in Geoff had expected some over confident asshole, it had happened before and quite honestly he was ready to deal with it. But no, he’d got Ryan. The first meeting of the team, at that time Michael hadn’t been in yet was odd. Jack and sat across from Geoff but Vagabond, as he was called at that time, stood in the corner. Face obscured by the dark skull, arms loose at his sides but obviously ready for anything to go down. But what got Geoff the most was the way his eyes seemed to never end, as if he never blinked. As if he was really a skulled headed criminal, a supernatural force. 

 

Geoff would be the first to say he was fucked in the head. He liked killing a little too much, and loved violence. He had no qualms about hurting people, even though he did have a limit on not killing kids. But so did Ryan which was a comfort. He loved ripping people down, getting the upper hand and then laughing at the person as they struggled. Torture was one of his favorites. It was all power play. And though he could just hurt someone, push and push them physically until the broke, he enjoied the more mental torture and implemented it often. 

 

But when it came to Ryan, he couldn’t leave it alone. His eye tracked the other everywhere. He never was one for school boy crushes. He didn’t perk up when Ryan walked in the room, but he tracked him. Watching the play of the leather over his shoulders and the way some of the lower members of his crew scurried out of the way. It pushed all of his buttons.    
  


It all came to a head when the mask was finally removed, it had taken six months and five heists to get the guy to pull it off. It was well worth the wait, even with the face paint. The guy was fucking sexy. And seeing those flecks of ice without the shadow of the mask made Geoff instantly more interested. Geoff was pulled in a like a moth to a fucking flame, or a blowtorch to be more apt in the description of Ryan Haywood. He still tracked the man, eyes lazily moving as the other moved around the safe houses, warehouses and the penthouse but it was more like a hungry predator who was waiting. Jack once told him that it reminded him of an crocodile waiting in the water, eyes slowly tracking, and the boss thought it was an apt description of him. It was how he pulled in people, how he ripped down other crews. Most people thought he was an idiot, goof ball, and he was to an extent. But no under that was the cold knowledge that if you got close enough he’d eat you and shit you out. 

 

Their first encounter, as Geoff liked to call it, was after a heist that had gone off without a hitch. But Ryan hadn’t killed anyone, Geoff having stolen his kill. The larger man had cornered him, boiling power coming off him in waves. The following sex had been rough and so great. Finding out he had a blood play partner really warmed Geoff’s heart. But the most fun was the dominance how the both fought for it, and who ever gave out first lost. It was like cat and mouse. But it seemed so much more dangerous, especially when some of their bed sports included guns and knives. But in the best ways. 

 

They had gotten together soon after, not so much dating as having rough fucks after heists and being possessive. He’d never say they were dating, made it seem too domestic. But he was lying to himself, knowing he was sort of in left field when it came to Ryan. The man was a work of art, violence and rage, bloodied hands and bruised knuckles. 

 

After two years Ryan had wanted a murder break, had walked out. Just packed his things from the apartment and left. Had kissed Geoff’s temple and left, a wiry smile on his face. The crime boss may have destroyed the apartment that night, until Jack came in and calmed him down enough for him to get his head sort of on straight. Michael had just joined them, quite reluctantly and Geoff knew that the kid got a great view of what he was underneath all the fun.

 

He’d poured his rage (and hurt, though he’d never admit that.) into ripping apart smaller crews, cannibalizing their turf for his own. The destruction left in the wake of their (Shut up Jack, it wasn’t a fucking break up) was catastrophic. Many people soon realised that he was the crocodile in the water, that he was just playing them. But it worked because he’d own this fucking city if it was the last thing he did. For a year he did this. His main three man crew was well known eventually, not including B-team who mainly worked in the shadows. His territory was expanding fast, and his power rocketing. 

 

When Michael had come in it was interesting. The boy was all anger, rage and explosives. He didn’t catch Geoff’s eye at first, until well that was another story. But his work was beautiful. The kid was a fucking genius. Everything would be either obliterated or on fire by the end of one of his jobs. It didn’t hurt that the kid was a fucking riot. Funny as dicks. Which totally won both he and Jack over fast. 

 

Geoff had secretly had an eye on Ryan during all this. Watching him play the domestic fool. Working at a hardware store, sitting at the small diner drinking tea. The hardware store was a riot to him, half the shit in there could kill you. It wasn’t lost on him that Ryan chose there. But it was watching him help little old ladies and fucking cut plywood like he’d never used a circular saw on someone’s leg that made Geoff very unhappy. But there was something else. He only watched him a few times himself, he was keenly interested in the interactions between the kid and Ryan. The gangly brit. was cute and strangely innocent for someone Geoff knew had a fucked up life. He’d watched them after being informed, had stood in an alley across from the diner he owned as the kid asked a question and Ryan answered. Zeno has been pissed when he’d had the diner wired but Geoff had silenced him with a glare. 

 

Jealousy had wrapped around his heart at first, watching at Ryan gave the kid small smiles. It was so disgustingly normal. He’d watched the kid, Gavin apparently for a while before calling in the escort service himself. He’d been told he’d have to wait three months for the kid. That was interesting, he was sure he could have gotten him that night had he dropped his name. But he didn’t want to give Glasgow the satisfaction. He’d tossed the pictures brought to him by Kerry in the trash every week. Ryan had been his, was his. No fucking slut of Glasgow’s was going to steal him away. Fuck. 

 

But then the man had shown up at his house, looking like old Ryan. A millisecond from carnage and it shot down to Geoff’s groin in a second making his reel for a bit. He’d been sure that Ryan would hold out, this being one of his longest murder breaks ever. The one before that had been a month. Then fucking Ryan dropped the fucking dong bomb. They were going to take down Glasgow, and Ryan was off his murder break. All because of that stupid twink. 

 

Geoff crouched over the map on the floor, staring at Ryan who was gazing blankly at the body of Topaz. For the amount of blood on the floor, there was nothing on the man himself. Years of training himself to avoid blood splatter made Ryan an expert, Geoff supposed. It was something he could appreciate about the other, the pure brutality but the absolute control. Ryan had once told him that was what they had in common. Both mentally broken but in perfect control of their facilities. He knew the other was right, and it made his heart pick up pace when he thought about it. 

 

Standing from his crouch Geoff made it over to the taller man, his own eyes trailing down Topaz, as he stood next to him. It was beautiful. The man’s hands looked like banana peels, his legs both shattered at the knees, and bone poking out of his arms and lower legs. It was obvious that it had taken little persuasion for Ryan to get it out, probably an hour if he had to guess. 

 

“What was the name, and what’re we gonna do?” Geoff said spotting Michael strolling in, Lindsey and Kdin behind him ready for clean up. Like a well oiled fucking machine. Michael had his bag over his shoulder, while the other two carried kerosene cans, all chatting and laughing. 

 

“Burnie Burns.” 

 

“Cockbites huh, well this just got interesting.” Geoff stretched a bit. “Didn’t know Glasgow was with him.” 

 

“I think they’re all one thing. The Cockbites had been scrambling to get your turf away from you, and Glasgow hated you. So I can’t find it surprising.” Ryan slipped off his mask, as the clean up team began to spread kerosene on the ground. 

 

“True, so we going straight for Burns first or…” 

 

“Nah, let’s make him squirm. Destroy his shipments, all his little industry's hidden around the city.” Ryan grinned and looked over at the tattooed man. 

 

“That we can do, that info you grabbed has us down as dicks. We can fucking destroy him.” Geoff smirked back and then shook his head. “Let’s leave the kids to their arsen.” 

 

The two gents walked out of the warehouse, shoulders brushing. It seemed normal to Geoff to hop on the back of Ryan’s bike and pull away, the warmth of a burning warehouse at his back. The drive was fast, with Ryan weaving through traffic as if he hadn’t been on a murder break for so long, and his best bike stashed in Geoff’s own garage. When they pulled into his garage Geoff slid off the seat and stood, watching as Ryan stood and briefly shook out his hands. 

 

“Let’s head up.” Geoff patted his shoulder and slipped into the elevator, Ryan quickly following. The ride up was silent, as was their slow and methodical removal of weapons in the armory. The silence was thick, and Geoff sighed through his nose as he undid his bow tie and threw his coat on top of his guns, Jack or Michael would yell at him later. 

 

The two men ended up across from one another on the couches in the living room, Geoff siping his liquor slowly and rolling it around his mouth trying to think of a way to break the silence. But Ryan was sharpening his blades in practiced easy, seemingly unperturbed by the silence which was bothering the crime boss. It was hypnotic, watching Ryan sharpen his blades, it reminded him of some very fun times. But he narrowed his eyes at himself, relaxed more.

 

“So why now?” Geoff finally asked.

 

“I don’t know.” Ryan placed his knife down and looked at the lounging boss. “It’s just...something terrible happens to someone you barely know, someone you know is good deep down and it just snaps something.” Ryan picked up the next knife, cloth running over it before he began to sharpen it.

 

“So this is about the kid.” Geoff sighed and placed his glass on the table between them. The boss’ tone was dark, almost snappy. 

 

“Yes.” Ryan met his eyes defiantly, hand tightening on the hilt of the blade. Geoff’s gaze seemed bored but Ryan knew better, knew that this man has a possessive streak bigger than the grand canyon. Knew that Geoff considered Ryan his. “He’s mine now.” Ryan says suddenly surprising himself with the statement, but knew it was true. The darkness that always seemed to swirl in his mind was never wrong. Gavin was his. Geoff’s eyes opened a bit wider and his eyebrows climbed his head. 

 

Geoff knew how possessive he was, and how Ryan was as well and couldn’t stop himself from accepting the kid then. The smirk lifted a side of his mouth as his gazed returned to his normal mild expression. Something gleamed in the other’s eyes for a moment and Ryan stared steadily back.

 

“Ours you mean.” Geoff said smoothly, smirk growing at the glittering stare he received from Ryan. 

 

“Ours then.” Geoff smirked wider at the reply. 

 

~~~~~____~~~~~_____~~~~~

 

Gavin woke up slowly, the hospital room was quiet and he felt more whole than he had in the last few weeks. The pain had subsided and it made him feel great knowing that he would be out soon. Well maybe not great, seeing as he’d be going right back to Glasgow. But better he supposed. Lying and keeping still wasn’t his strong suit and being cooped up with the fucking hospital even less so. The doctors said he’d get released tomorrow, when he finally saw them. Which made him fucking happy. But having slept most of the day Gavin laid awake, watching the same news cast over and over, since nothing else was on. 

 

He hadn’t been that surprised when after driving back to the stables he’d been beaten in front of the others. They had tried not to scar him, but some of the new muscle hadn’t gotten the memo. Having them get shot and fall on his already broken body had been horrible. The beating was one of the worst he’d ever had, not the worst but high up there. Now he felt like he’d lost a lot of his emotion, the thin lid on other having broken and they flew away. During his stay he’d stared mutely at the police who had come in. Seeing as he’d been dropped off in front of the ER with no explanation. Everyone knew what he was but they were trying to be nice about it he supposed. Acting like he was just some other victim and not a high end escort who had pissed of their owner.  

 

A few of the nurses gave him pitying and disgusted looks. Like he had chosen, willingly his position in life. It had made him hostile towards them. Jeremy had been the one to talk him down about it. Saying that people were judgemental pricks, and that getting riled up about it would just make it worse. He was quite glad that his friend had been showing up every so often to talk with him, and make sure he felt better. Even though lately Jeremy had looked worse, picking up so much slack because of the fact he was down for the count. 

 

The door of the room opened but Gavin had his eyes closed and didn’t want to open them at the moment. The only person who ever came to see him was Jeremy, and although some part of him wished that Ryan would come he knew he wouldn’t. 

 

“Hey Lil J.” Gavin said having been dozing a bit. 

 

“Gavin Free.” 

 

The brit. turned his head, eyes snapping open and stared at the man in his doorway, who had Jeremy by the neck. Jeremy who was bloody and bruised staring at the ground. The man was in a cut suit and a serious expression. But Gavin knew him immediately, had seen him while in the UK dealing with...problems. Fear raced through Gavin’s veins, muting the rage and anger in his mind. He could feel his eyes widen, the doe eyed look. 

 

“Dan.” Gavin’s voice was strangled as fear bloomed in his chest. What had he done, he’d been in the hospital for weeks. He couldn’t have done anything, he’d been silent after his beating. Answering all the calls given to him and playing the scared whore. Only now the fucking attack dog stood there, eyes staring blankly at Gavin.  

 

“We have a slight problem on our hands, and I need your cooperation.” Jeremy was pushed into the room, stumbling into Gavin’s bed when he leaned, blurry eyed and bleeding. Dan strode in and quietly shut the door, unfazed by everything. It reminded him vaguely of Ryan, but Dan’s demeanor was less controlled, less calculated. “You see Glasgow was killed, in his own club. By a ghost. And Jeremy here says you had a visitor, care to elaborate?” If felt like he’d been punched in the gut, Glasgow that fat, fuckign smegpot was dead. Killed in his own club. If Gavin hadn’t been so scared he would have laughed. He’d told Jeremy before that Glasgow was too cocky. No one in UK would have been so blasé. Especially with so many rival crews, and the fact he wasn’t even that powerful. 

 

Had Jeremy told them. Told them what he’d said and just didn’t want to get hurt? Had Jeremy thrown him under the bus! Rage for a second blazed through his body and his eyes snapped to the other worker. But Jeremy looked like total shit, he’d obviously been beaten, not as badly as Gavin had been but it was still pretty bad. 

 

“I...what?” Gavin looked at Jeremy and then back to Dan. “Only Jeremy ever came in here and visited. I never saw anyone else.” 

 

Dan’s eyes narrowed slightly at his answer, and Gavin felt his stomach flutter. What was worse was the way Dan did this type of thing, gently brushing his knuckles across Gavin’s cheek. A veiled threat, that looked tender. It made bile start to rise in Gavin’s throat. He’d only ever seen Dan work once back in the UK. They were freakishly close in age, but it was such a vast difference between them that Gavin felt as if he were so much younger than the other. The last time had been horrible, Dan had lured him in with kindness. Treating him sweetly, light touches and encouraging words. But it was very quickly obvious that he didn’t truly feel anything. Gavin had watched blood spread across the floor after Dan had curb stomped another worker. It had been fascinating but the horror sunk deeper than his interest in the carnage. 

 

“That doesn’t sound truthful.” He brushed hair out of the blond man’s face with a small vague smile. Gavin’s eyes widened, and he shook his head. Dan was brushing his fingers lightly through his hair, and Gavin could just see the replay of the curb stomp, but instead it was Jeremy. 

 

“No I’m telling the truth. I never saw anyone else. Just Jeremy.” Dan’s head turned slightly to look at Jeremy who was gasping on the bed, gripping his middle. Dan’s hand had stilled at the back on Gavin’s neck, his hand cool. It felt as if he never lifted a finger in his life, but Gavin had seen him do so much damage before that he knew better. 

 

“Jeremy,” the man tsked. “telling tall tales?” Dan’s reached down the bed and lifted the bostonian’s face with a single gentle finger. The calm man brushed a finger against Jeremy’s lip, an expectant look on his face. 

 

“The guy…” Jeremy took a shuddering breath as he tried to focus.  “never came in, just sort of sat outside, asked me ‘bout him.” 

 

“You told the men this during your...questioning?” Dan asked, head tilting to the side like a curious dog. Again Gavin thought of Ryan, that head tilt. But where Dan’s head seemed to just fall to the side, Ryan’s had slowly moved. Perfect control. He suddenly wished the other man was here. 

 

“Yeah, I did.” Jeremy gasped another breath in, blood sprinkled Gavin’s sheets. His gaze seemed distant as he tried to keep his feet under him, and Gavin wanted to move and grasp the other's hand, but the smooth, cold hand on his neck kept his frozen in place. One move and he was sure the tips of the man’s fingers would dig into his flesh. 

 

“Interesting they never told me.” Dan turned back to Gavin, who’s eyes were wide and shining with fear. “Would you have any idea who would come to you? A client perhaps?” Gavin tried to think, but all he could think of was Jeremy and then Ryan. But he didn’t want to say. Didn’t want to drag the only other good person into this. 

 

“No.” Gavin gasped as Dan’s petted his hair gently. Fear shook through his whole body, he knew what usually happened when Dan came. Knew that he was the pit bull, the beast that came to clean up everything with carnage. If he had mentioned Ryan or the diner, he knew both Zeno and Ryan would be next. Would be dead and it would have been Gavin’s fault.  

 

“No? Jeremy did you know him? Ever see him as a client?” Dan’s hand dragged off Gavin’s head gently, as if he was ruffling the other’s hair. It just made Gavin’s stomach twist as that hand reached over and grasped Jeremy’s hair harshly.

 

Jeremy blinked slowly and then shook his head. Air gasping between his lips, unable to answer with words. He was slowly losing consciousness. With a smile Dan pressed the call button once, and strode out silently, leaving Jeremy shuddering on the foot of Gavin’s bed. 

 

When Gavin was sure that Dan had left, he frantically started mashing the call button, and yelling for help. Five nurses came running in, surprise on their faces when the spotted Jeremy slumped over Gavin’s feet. 

 

“Help him! Please!” 

 

Jeremy had collapsed on the ground, his breath coming out in shuddering gasps. Blood speckled his mouth and his eyes glazed. He didn’t want to lose Jeremy, he couldn’t. Fear for him bubbled in his throat as he watched the nurses and doctors rush around, getting him on a gurney and running out. 

 

~~~~~_____~~~~~~____~~~

 

“That kid, Jeremy, he’s missing from the safehouse.” Geoff said a few days later, as he was confirming the destructions of two drug houses and a shipment yard. Ryan turned to stare at him, eyes narrowing. 

 

“What?” His voice was low, angry. 

 

“He walked out on his own a few days ago, you can’t blame me. Was just sitting on the couch and then he rushed out as if wolves were chasing in.” Geoff looked up and met the angry glare head on. It sent a tingle down his spine.

 

Ryan narrowed his eyes more, but looked back to his gun which he was reassembling. The man was still in his apron from the hardware store, and it looked so out of place as he took apart, cleaned and reassemble his guns. Ryan was sure that they'd gotten Jeremy, and therefore had gone after Gavin. It settled a stone his his gut. He knew that Jeremy was important to the brit. And Ryan wanted to keep him out of the line of fire. But if the kid wasn’t smart enough to avoid the battle, he wouldn’t feel bad. 

 

Geoff looked so calm that Ryan doubted the other man truly cared. Had been fine with the kid using his safe house, but didn’t feel that bad about him going missing. Ryan was sure that it had to do with something. Jeremy had been all about the safe house after he had killed Glasgow. Perhaps Burns had called someone in. Someone to try and deal with the damage being done to his assets. Ryan would put money on it. 

 

If they got Gavin he’d have to work fast, push Geoff’s crew harder. But he would. He wasn’t sure why he was so fixated on the kid, though a psych ward would probably have a field day with him. He had not fixated like this in a few years, but it didn’t bother him. Seeing as the last person he fixated on had been Geoff himself. It had been interesting in the beginning, scaring the shit out of the man as he found his apartment broken into on a daily basis. Looking back Ryan could see that Geoff hadn’t been scared but it still have been fun. Especially after he began to work with the crew. Everytime he’d seen the other man, or been in the same room he had felt that lazy stare. The stare of someone who saw something they wanted and didn’t doubt they could get it. It had made Ryan shiver, having never been on the receiving end of such a look before. When that heist had gone right, except Geoff stealing his kill it had pushed Ryan over the edge. He’d at first attacked the man in the penthouse after he was sure Jack was gone, sneaking in. It had ended in blood and sex. 

 

With Gavin it seemed just as intense, he had researched of course, digging through everything he could find. But he had never stalked him, somehow content to see him once or twice a week. But now he was blood thirsty. Gavin was his. HIS. He hadn’t risked another visit to the hospital since his rampage had begun. It seemed risky, and he didn’t want to put the boy in the crossfire. But he supposed that was too late. Geoff he found out had been watching the boy and him. The possessive nature of the boss taking over. Ryan understood and it made it even better now that Geoff accepted Gavin was his now too. They’d get him back and they’d have everything they ever wanted the three of them.

 

~~~~~____~~~~~____~~~~

 

“We got ‘im” The man slapped a thin folder down in front of Dan, who picked it up, a blank look on his face. In the folder was a snap shot from the hospital, the man was sitting, a book open on his lap, long hair pulled up into a tail the swept over his shoulder. “ ‘is name is James Haywood, works at a hardware store, and apparently is always at the diner that piece of shit twink was always at. He’s normal, college educated nothing exciting.” 

 

Dan stared at the picture silently, head tilted to one side. he flipped to the next one, James as was apparently his name was staring right into the camera a small smirk on his face. The man hadn’t moved anything but his head, the rest of his body in the same statuesque position. If Dan had been able to feel fear, it would have rolled down his body. He could tell that the men around him felt uncomfortable when he tossed the picture into the center of the table. 

 

“They’re lies, dig deeper. I want to know who he really is.” Dan stood up, his eyes looking around the room, pausing on Gavin and Jeremy who were being used just across the room by some of the lower level thugs. “He’ll show up soon, if he wants this boy so bad.” 

 

Dan watched interested. The quiet sobs from that side of the room had gone unnoticed by his ears for the last few hours but now they seemed to ring. Everything seemed to be going tits up, but Dan still have the big player’s favorite thing. And if Haywood wanted to boy he had to play nice. 

 

He’d dig through everything, pick out where the whore knew Haywood from. Figure out who Haywood was, and if he was the one who had killed Glasgow. But somehow Dan already knew it was. The taunting smile to the hospital camera was just so strange. Even in the grainy footage he could make out the ice blue of his eyes. He’d never met someone he couldn’t track down, Dan always got his man. Always got them, got their information and then killed them. One hundred percent success rate. But the whore, that was interesting. Had Haywood done this just to get to him? How was Ramsey, the one now destroying all of their assets involved? He’d seen so many green stars the last few days he could honestly say he hated the color now. 

 

For his first trip across the pond it was really turning out interesting. He’d thought it was going to bored. A straightforward, kill the whore who was snitching. He hadn’t had this much fun in quite some time, though fun was just a term for it. It just interested him. Made him feel as if he had a huge jigsaw puzzle to work through. 

 

~~~~____~~~~~____~~~

 

Ryan watched the tanker blow up in the distance, it filling the harbor with plumes of smoke. Even in the rearview mirror he could see the fire spreading to the next tanker, and the next. Gavin was missing, so was Jeremy. Another stray he had picked up and claimed. He was going to rip everything apart. They’d taken down so many warehouses, drug scenes and fronts that Ryan was surprised that the other crew wasn’t almost dead. Though from what Jack told me that the amount the blew up wouldn’t have even touched Geoff’s empire. But he could see the strain on the Glasgow/Cockbite crews. They were sloppy now, at least the smaller operations were. 

 

In his earpiece Lindsey’s voice rang out. “They brought someone in from overseas, I got all I can on him nasty piece of fucking work here.” Ryan caught Geoff’s eyes as the man glanced over at him from the passenger seat. Ryan revved the adder, pushing it faster down the highway. Zipping in and out of traffic. The sudden increase in speed not even bothering Geoff in any way. 

 

“Get ready for a brief in twenty, tell us all about him.” Geoff’s fingers were tapping impatiently on the car door as the sped towards the main base.

 

~~~~~_____~~~~~____~~~~~

 

“So this shitstorm is named Dan Gruchy, basically he’s the guy Burns sends in when shit hits the fan. The guy gets results. His history is basically normal gang violence turned up to eleven. Every time he’s sent in he makes a fucking mess, but gets results.” Lindsey sighed and threw the file at Geoff who caught it. “Man’s basically a sociopath with a business card. He was military for a bit, before he fell in with the wrong crowd. Not too soon after he climbed through Cockbite ranks like it was a mission. I’ve found some of his work, he’s ruthless and efficient. 

 

Ryan gazed over Geoff’s shoulder at the file, the lists there were impressive. But didn’t match him at all. In fact it was a bit boring, lists of murders and torture. But everything was on an order from Burns. Boring. The man had been in some type of secret operation for a while before going solo. His success rate was high, scarily so but to Ryan it meant nothing. The man had no passion. That was, he thought the problem with sociopaths. No emotion. No passion. Just boring logic. Logic that took the fun away. 

 

Geoff met his gaze briefly and tapped his photo. “Guy looks like an asshole.” Geoff was interested, you could say. This Dan character was an interesting enemy to have, like playing chess. Most people though that as a crime lord, Geoff flew by the seat of his pants. Some type of get rich quick, crook. But no. No, no, no ,no. He had planned everything perfectly, moved pieces around the in a game. Though he did enjoy chaos, liked watching people run and hide and scream. But sociopath he was not, He enjoyed his emotions it made him interesting he thought. Laughing as he ripped someone apart in interrogation. It was a reason he and Ryan worked so well. This Dan guy though, no flavor. All orders. He could see the same thought passing through Ryan’s head. Knew that they’d rip this guy apart.

 

“Was also able to get some information on the two guys.” Lindsey brought up two more files and slapped them down on the table. “Gavin Free, and Jeremy Dooley. Free was picked up off the streets immediately put into sex work at the age of twelve. Mentions in one of Dan’s folder that they met before, dude curb stomped another worker in front of Free. But it looks like two years ago, he was given to Glasgow as a gift by Burns. Dooley was hired as a sniper originally, but when he refused to kill some kids they broke him. Apparently Narvaez went under the code name Monster Truck, and I know we’ve all heard this name. Says here he is was a bare knuckle boxer at hand-to-hand so it  doesn’t make sense that he’s stuck there”

 

“Interesting.” Geoff said, staring at the two pictures. He could see the look of a sniper in Jeremy, he had those type of eyes. But his eyes dragged over to Gavin, looking at the face. He looked scared, but Geoff could see something in his eyes. The same thing he had seen when he was younger in his own. A thrill chased down his spine and he tilted his head slowly, and plopped the folders back onto the table. “Fun.” 

 

~~~___~~~~~____~~~

 

Dan sighed as he got off the phone with Burns. He was pissed, over ¾ of their shipments were down, most of the east coast was hemorrhaging. He sat at the table in the high end restaurant eating his food silently waiting for the leader of FunHaus to show up. The merc. squad was well known and had been his last resort. But he was slowly losing what footing he had gained upon his arrival.

 

Burns was losing his temper, something that was not going to work well. Emotions cluttered everything. But Dan knew that he was slowly getting into deep water. Ramsey. Fucking Ramsey was a problem. The piece of shit was ripping down the whole Cockbite operation. Burns himself had fled to his estate in Moscow, removing himself from the states in case everything went totally tits up. But Dan was sure he could right this, he just had to get the right chips on the table. The problem was everytime he felt like he was a stride ahead something happened and Ramsey came in gun blazing. Haywood was silent, he had people watching him for a few days. But all he did was work at the hardware store, and then go to the diner at night. Normal. Just as his file had said. But the crew members in the car had said that Haywood had stared at them for a long while. Slowly sipping his tea. It made Dan want to rip him apart, waving his normalcy in front of his nose.

 

Someone placed a bloody cellphone on the table. “He won’t be coming.” 

 

Dan glanced up to meet the face of James Haywood, who looked surprisingly bored and put together. It intrigued Dan. The fact he had been able to do all this without catch anyone's attention made it even more so. The cellphone he recognized as the burner he had given the merc leader.

 

“Want me to stop? Because I can keep going, brick by brick.  Dollar by Dollar.” Ryan picked up a napkin and began to wipe his hands off, the napkin turned slowly bright red. “Body by body. You you can just give up, go home. Take your operation with you.” Ryan met Dan’s eyes coolly. “I gave Glasgow and the men I killed, your men a chance. Here is yours.”

 

“Well, thank you.” Dan smiled. “You know what I see when I look at you?”

 

Ryan raised an eyebrow, unimpressed to say the least. Dan felt like he was playing a good game of chess. Though deep in his mind he knew he was at a disadvantage. He wished he had more information of Haywood. Leverage. But for some reason he didn’t think that would work on the man in front of him. The whore, Gavin might work. But he was sure if he threatened him that Haywood would just keep going. 

 

“Nothing. You’re like a bit of rubbish, a bottle cap I need to remove.” Dan smiled as he sat back. “When I do, no one will remember you or the Fake AH Crew.” 

 

“Can I tell you a story?” Ryan said leaning back further, a smile on his face. Dan blinked slowly at the change of topic. He had expected an emotional reaction. The other was quite obviously ruled by them. He had a manic stare that even made Dan want to look away. 

 

“If you want.” Dan kept his voice bland.

 

“I read a story once about a boy. He was orphaned, alone...troubled. And this couple took him in. They were rich, kind and had two children of their own.” Ryan played with the water glass, tipping it slightly with one finger. “Now this kid he’d mess up. He’d get in fights, but the man, this generous man would forgive him. He’d steal, he’d be forgiven. He’d fail in his studies. You see the theme. But one night the man and women were murdered. Things were stolen, things a child would steal. But no one was ever caught. The other children were sent to relatives and the boy back into hell.”

 

“Yes, I’ve heard this story before.” Dan smiled, sipping his wine. Not letting on that it had hit home. That it was his past Haywood was happily telling him, as if reciting a funny anecdote. 

 

“Who do you think killed them?” Ryan said leaning forward. At Dan’s blank look Ryan smirked. “I think it was the kid. He couldn’t bare the thought that this couple, that these people would one day give up on him. Would throw him away like a bit of rubbish, or a bottle cap. So he removed that variable.” Ryan was smirking, his eyes glittering in the candle light. Dan knew he was at a disadvantage now. That story had been buried so deep he hadn’t heard it in years.

 

“An interesting theory.” 

 

“Sometime the truth is right in front of our nose.” Haywood leaned back again, body going loose and bored. But that look never left his face. The smirk a permanent fixture on his face. Dan did not like this, had never been tugged around like this before. 

 

“You think you know me?”

 

Ryan shrugged before scooting to the front of his seat.  He grabbed a piece of paper and a pen straight from Dan’s pocket. “You give me call when you make your decision.”

 

“How will I know you’ll answer, you seem to be a ghost everywhere.” 

 

“Oh I will, and you better hope I like the answer.” Ryan placed the paper in the middle of the table with the pen. Blood was still splattered over the other man’s knuckles. 

 

“We could use someone like you working with us, Mr.Haywood.” Dan, glanced at the paper and then met the other’s eyes over the table. ‘We can pay quite well, even give you the boy.” He was interested in what Haywood would do. Would he take it for the boy. Dan was actually hoping so, but didn’t let it show. 

 

“This isn’t a negotiation.” Ryan stood up, and dropped the bloody phone into Dan’s glass of wine with a smirk. “When you pray for rain you gotta deal with the mud too.” 

 

Dan’s eyes didn't leave his back, the glare Ryan could feel as he left the building. Dan leaned back in his chair slightly, the stiff set of his shoulder slumping slightly. Burns would be even more angry. This was almost impossible. Ramsey had been getting so powerful in the last year that it seemed like that Burns was running out of territory. 

 

~~~~____~~~~_____~~~~

 

Geoff and his crew were tearing Los Santos apart. The police couldn’t keep up, couldn’t catch them. Even the crooked cops were scrambling to keep up with the destruction. Everything was planned out in teams, destroying, killing, stealing. Nothing left to salvage in the burnt wreckage left behind. Ryan had to say he was impressed at the amount of work getting done. Not that he should be surprised when it came to Geoff and his crew. He’d seen the destruction during his murder break, as Geoff ripped down the city and made it his own. It had made him miss it for a brief few months but had held out. Hoping to have a nice long break.  

 

Ryan lounged in Geoff’s living room, mask off, paint smeared on his face and soot staining his clothes and the leather couch he was sitting on. Geoff was in the conference room on the phone, unaware that he was back yet. From the way the conversation sounded, thing were going well with whatever attack has been planned for that night for Michael’s team, the spitfire knew his C-4. The almost manic smile the kid got as something went up in flames was amazing. Geoff said that the kid was just as bad as them, but instead of blood he wanted fire. Would just burn down a building for fun once in awhile. Stuff it with C-4 maybe and watch it collapse. Ryan could appreciant it. That type of fun.

 

Ryan leaned his head back against the couch and took a deep breath. Since his murder break had ended he has already lost count of the amount of people he had killed. It didn’t bother him at all, in fact after a whole year of no killing it was like a drink of water in the desert. A type of peace that hadn’t been present during his break was back. He turned his eyes to the door of the conference room as it swung open, revealing Geoff, white button up undone, showing his tattooed chest, dress pants slung low on his hips. The crime boss paused and then spotted Ryan lounging on his couch, a lazy smirk gracing his face. 

 

“You’re getting my couch dirty, asshole.” Geoff came to stand over Ryan, leaning over the back of the couch, hands bracketing the painted man’s head. Ryan perked a brow, and let his eyes wander up the arms to the chest the was positioned above him. He could see the gunshot scars under the ink, and other scars that cut through the colorful ink. 

 

“What are you going to do about it?” His voice took a low timber, and he had the pleasure of watching the pupils dilate in blue eyes. He’d been purposely pushing buttons the last few days. Pushing the kingpin closer and closer to losing it, it was a fun game that Geoff knew he was playing.  He heard the leather creak next to his ears as Geoff gripped the couch harder, he smirked up at the mustached man. 

 

“You’re getting on my last nerve, Haywood.” 

 

“Am I?” 

 

Geoff strode around the couch if three quick strides, and came to stand between Ryan’s splayed legs. The boss’ chest rose and fell with quickening breaths. It made Ryan sit up a bit more, letting his movements be purposefully slow. In blink the other was on him, a hand gripping the top knot in his hair, the other around his throat. 

 

“Yeah, you fucking are.” 

 

The kiss that followed was violent, full of teeth and hands trying to get dominance over the other. Ryan could taste blood on their lips where one of them had bitten too hard. But it didn’t stop either one of them, if anything it spurred them on. Ryan pulled Geoff into his lap, pushing the white shirt off tattooed shoulders. Their grips were bruising, and Ryan loved the feel of flesh bending under his hands. 

 

“You,” Geoff bit his neck, pulling at his leather jacket until it was off of him completely “are a complete asshole.” 

 

Ryan grinned at the boss’ words before giving his own bites and nips to the shoulders in front of him, his fingers digging into black clad hips. “I try.” Then he pushed the tattooed man off him and stood watching as Geoff righted himself and standing a few feet away now. The others breath was fast, and he could feel his own chest rising and falling calmly. Geoff was worked up, just as he liked it when he played this game. Ryan slowly slinked forward, quite pleased when the other took a halting step backwards. When they had been a thing before, there had always been dominance games. They always could tell how the night was going to go by the way they turned, and Ryan had won. 

 

With lightening speed he grabbed Geoff by the throat and lifted him off the ground slightly, pressing his back to the wall and he held the man’s eyes. Then slowly he trailed his hand up the tattooed chest, grinning at the paint that was smeared on it, and on the other man’s face. Leaning in Ryan put his lips to Geoff’s ear. “Poor little crime boss, all on his own.” The small noise Geoff made had Ryan smirking next to the man’s ear. 

 

This game had always been his favorite, but least used. It would have lost its potency had he used it as often as he wanted. Pushing and pushing until Geoff lost control. Until his whole mind was focused on Ryan alone. It was a satisfying, seeing the others eyes tracking his movements slowly. He could feel the flutter of Geoff’s heart under his hand, and it sent rushes of excitement through his blood. Then he attacked, biting and sucking at that pale column of throat biting scars, and tattoos alike. Geoff’s hands holding the one that pinned him against the wall by his throat. He dropped him soon after, stepping back and grinning what he knew many classified as his murder grin. 

 

“Run.” 

 

Geoff took off speeding down the closest hallway, which went towards his office and the armory. Ryan pursued his pace almost leisurely, something he knew drove Geoff wild. The kingpin once told him it made him feel trapped, like no matter what Ryan would get him. It pumped adrenaline through Ryan’s own body at the thought. But it wasn’t too long before he caught the man at his office door and tossed him into the armory and pinning him over the table that held Geoff’s disassembled weapons. He ground the man’s chest down, grinned at the almost too quiet whimper. Ryan has removed his own shirt one handed and now slowly pushed down the trousers of the pinned man, followed swiftly by his underwear. 

 

The boss was shaking, trying to arch off the table but unable to with the strong grip on his neck. He let out a growl and tried to kick out Ryan’s knees. 

 

“So feisty.” Ryan tsked, removing a finger from his mouth, only to push it into Geoff’s body, without much fanfare. The little gasp he got went straight to his cock, and he tilted his head, watching the quivers roll down pale skin. Geoff cursed again, began squirming fighting to get free. But Ryan leaned heavily on him. “I’m going to fuck you until you can’t move, then I might fuck you again.” His lips brushed Geoff shoulder, and he grinned. The boss’s breath hitched at his words, and his struggling increased.

 

He added a second finger, with only spit. This is what they both wanted, Geoff was well aware he could say no and Ryan would listen. But the man just struggled,kicking out once in awhile. But it dimmed as three fingers lazily pumped into him. When Geoff finally went pliant under him Ryan chuckle darkly, and bit harshly into on shoulder, removing his fingers. Quickly releasing his cock from his pants and slicking himself up with as much spit as he could get he sunk slowly in that warm heat. The small whines that passed the mustached man’s throat when he bottomed out made Ryan shudder slightly. 

 

“Haven’t been fucked in a while, have you?” Ryan growled out leaving bite marks down Geoff’s back. He didn’t need an answer, he knew Geoff was a man all about control. Knew that Ryan was the only one to ever do this to him, and it gave the taller man a thrill. 

 

Suddenly Geoff had a knife, trying to slash at him from his position bent over, and speared. Ryan easily grabbed the arm and pinned it to the other man’s back. “So mean.” He didn’t remove the knife, just let it lay across Geoff back, where it was a threat. “Guess you are very impatient.” Ryan watched blood sluggishly pour from the pin prick wound from the knife on Geoff’s back. 

 

Pulling his hips back Ryan began to pound roughly into him. It was hard and painful, just how they liked it sometimes. With a smirk he grabbed the lube that was in his back pocket and dribbled some on his cock on a back stroke, enjoying the sudden easy slide and the mewls and swearing that were coming out of the man under him. 

 

“Enjoying yourself?” Ryan asked, uncaring that he was out of breath. 

 

“Fuck you.” 

 

Ryan chuckled and reached around and began to harshly tug on Geoff’s own cock in time with his strokes and grinned when the man came, a jumble of words and sounds came from his mouth as he did. Ryan ruthlessly fucked him through it, until he orgasamed pinning Geoff with his own back as he shallowly pumped through his own. They lay like the for a bit before Ryan stood up and gingerly pulled Geoff up to stand too. 

 

“Fuck” Geoff breathed leaning on the taller man. “Missed that.”

 

“Mmmm.” Ryan tucked himself back into his pants and then bent over pulling up Geoff’s own pants. The stress that Ryan had seen riding Geoff’s shoulders before seemed gone.”Let’s eat something.” 

 

~~~~~____~~~____~~~~

 

Gavin leaned in the corner of his cell, clinging desperately to Jeremy as they waited. Dan had gotten errily kind towards them. It didn’t sit right with Gavin and Jeremy agreed. Whatever was happening was bad. Jeremy was almost healed from the last round of beatings, and Gavin still couldn’t walk properly. The guards had been told to leave them be, let them heal. Keep them fresh had been the actual words. It made something roll in his stomach, not fear but something dark. He knew something was going to happen but he couldn’t place it. Jeremy was breathing steadily, so Gavin supposed the other had fallen into a light doze, they had started sleeping in shifts. Both to paranoid to both sleep at the same time. 

 

Everything had gone from bad to total shit storm in the last few weeks. Though he didn’t know exactly what was going on, he could see the thugs growing nervous. How there seemed to be less and less of them everyday. How Dan, when he came down to see them always smelled of soot and kerosene. But that old smell, of a building already burnt down. He knew that they were in the middle of a war, and he was confused why they weren’t in the underground stables. Being moved to Liberty city like the rest of the assets. 

 

The cell door swung open and imposing figure in the doorway made Gavin clutch a bit tighter at Jeremy’s hand. 

 

“We’re moving, stand up.” It was one of the guards who took so much pleasure in beating and raping them. So Gavin quickly moved to obey, fear rolling through his blood at what was to come. “Hurry it up.” Gavin looked at Jeremy who gave him a small smile. Holding hands they walked out into the bright room. 

 

It was chaos people were running back and forth. Yelling and screaming. There was blood and Gavin felt his heart try and kick out of his chest. Turning to look at Jeremy he found the man staring off at something, following his gaze he found a orange and purple sniper rifle gleaming in the overhead light. 

 

Then the lights went out, and the chaos intensified. There was more yelling and the building shook like an earthquake. It happened four more times, the shaking getting more and more intense with each one. Then he could smell fire and knew they were under attack. Explosions. 

 

“Where are the whores!” That was Dan, who seemed to be yelling from a mile away. “This damn crew is almost upon us.” Then the man was right in front of Gavin, who in the pushing and jostling had lost Jeremy’s hand. “Can’t be losing our bargaining chip.” He brushed a thumb over Gavin cheek, leaving a streak of blood in his wake. “Where is the other one!?” The lights flickered back on and Gavin chanced a look around. The purple and orange sniper was gone, and so was Jeremy. 

 

“He’s missing sir, he was right he-” The goon’s brain matter splattered all over Gavin’s right side as Dan shot him. 

 

“Find him, bring him to me.” Dan turned to look at Gavin, eye narrowing. “If he escapes, I will kill him.” Gavin suddenly felt anger, something he hadn’t felt since his rebellious stages working the streets. He wanted to punch him in the face, and rip out his throat with his teeth. Jeremy was his friend, his only friend. And he’d fucking die before he let anyone hurt him. 

 

“You touch him, I’ll kill you.” Gavin snapped. The words surprised him, but it didn’t feel like a lie, or a bluff. He wanted to strangle this man until the light left his eyes. Dan’s smile was condescending.

 

“You could try.” 

 

“And I would, you fucking minge.” Gavin snapped, glaring angrily in the other’s face. The anger was boiling in his skin, like acid. He was so tired of being scared. He met the other’s eyes without flinching. 

 

“Well isn’t this interesting.” Dan suddenly gripped his throat, squeezing roughly. But it didn’t catch Gavin off guard. The best thing about having been abused so long, it doesn’t phase your mind all that much, the physical pain. The fear he used to feel, that used to pool in his stomach was gone, as if it had never been. He could never remember a real moment when he hadn’t been scared. No that wasn’t right, Ryan didn’t scare him. But it was gone, and just rage boiled in him skin. He grabbed Dan’s wrist and glared back, taking small, panting breaths but never panicking.  

 

Through the vice on his throat Gavin spoke. “I’m going to kill you.” It rang like a vesper bell in his head, he was going to kill this man if it was the last thing he did. 

 

“We’ll see.” 

 

~~~~_____~~~~~____~~~~

 

Ryan stood on the balcony looking over Los Santos, all around the skyline were plumes of smoke, large and small. A testament to the war going on. So far no one had touched Geoff’s territory and many smaller gangs had come to make alliances. Which just tickled Geoff pink. But the city was burning, and he had yet to receive a call from Gruchy. He was getting antsy, ready to strike and finish this all off. Gavin was out there, and one of their sources said that he was with Gruchy. It made Ryan’s blood boil, he had seen the same expression on Geoff’s face. Micro-expression of course, but Ryan had seen it. That boiling rage, the possessive anger. Gavin was theirs. 

 

Suddenly Geoff came up beside him, a tumbler in one hand and a bloody handkerchief in the other. It would have seem cliche on anyone else in the world, but it fit the other man well. Ryan had never understood the suit until he saw Geoff in full action one day. He used it like a mask, to never look ruffled, like a true Bond villain. People feared him because he was so well put together, even as he smiled and laughed. They knew underneath was a man who would kill anyone who got in his way. Ryan liked that about him, he supposed. 

 

“Isn’t this a beautiful sight.” Geoff chortled. “Bringing the city to it’s knees. Fucking great.” 

 

“Gruchy is still missing, along with the kids.”Ryan said, his tone low, he needed violence. It was thrumming through his body a killing rage. He could feel Geoff staring at him. “I want to kill him, and then kill Burns. Burn them all out.” 

 

“Oh we will buddy, we will.” 

 

Ryan believed him, because surprisingly Geoff had never let him down before and he didn’t think the man was going to start. Knowing how that would end for him. They had this sick, twisted love between them. It was trust but dark and wrong to everyone else but them. It’s what made them such a powerhouse, all that rage cycling between them with pristine control.It didn’t stop him from wanting to strange the life out of Gruchy with his own hands. Watch the light fade from his eyes. 

 

B-team was already out, clearing and burning two safe houses and Ryan could feel everything about to come to a head. The city was burning and the Fake AH Crew was going to be standing on the rubble, laughing. Civilians had gone into hiding, and gangs were picking sides, most sitting pretty with Ramsey. Handing him their turf and what men they could give. Every crew boss was greeted by Geoff himself, Ryan standing behind. Of course each crew boss was killed as an example to the new members. It was such a fun dance. 

 

Just then his burner phone rang, and Ryan smiled at Geoff in his cruel way, before fishing it out of his pocket. 

 

“Well hello, little boy.” Ryan stared out over the city. 

 

“This hardware store is nice, isn’t it?” Dan said calmly, and Ryan smiled. 

 

“I thought so.” Ryan stood up, rolling his eyes at Geoff. Dan thought because he had emotions that this would phase him, but no. He didn’t care really for those common people. People he’d shoot on any heist. “You doing some shopping?” 

 

“No, thought I’d have a little party.” Something was tight in Dan’s voice. He knew it wasn’t working, that Ryan was uninterested in the people he now held hostage. 

 

“Oh, am I invited?” Ryan put some glee into his tone, head turning as knocking came at the door, and Geoff pulled his gun to go check it. 

 

“You’re the guest of honor, wouldn’t be the same without you.” Ryan smiled, he liked this game. It was fun. So many things in the place he had wanted to try, so many ways to kill a man in a hardware store. Silly little boy. 

 

“Well then, let me get freshened up. What time is this party?” Ryan strode towards the balcony door, which Geoff had closed and grinned. 

 

“Six, don’t be late.” Dan hung up harshly but Ryan kept the phone to his ear. Grinning at the sniper sitting in the living room getting checked over by Jack. 

 

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

 

~~~~____~~~~____~~~~~

 

Jeremy stared at the door, his ribs aching. Leaning on the door jam for a moment trying to catch his breath. He had scaled too many fire escapes in the last two hours, escaping with his sniper rifle to go down cause he was in too much pain. His stomach rolled when he thought of Gavin, alone with all those people. But he doubted Dan would hurt the brit. he needed him. It was obvious that they were losing and Jeremy was all about that.

 

When he was ready he knocked steadily on the door, hoping someone would get to it and open the damn thing. He wasn’t disappointed when Ramsey opened the door. 

 

“The fuck you doing here?” 

 

“I’m the singing telegram, let me get my tap shoes on.” Jeremy deadpanned, frowning. Geoff ushered him inside before he paused and stared at the gun in his hands. 

 

“Is that rifle orange and purple?

 

“ Rimmy-rifle.” Jeremy sat on the couch, and huffed a quiet ow. But he leaned the gun securely at his side. “Can I get some first aid? Cause I feel like I got run over by an elephant.” Then his eyes scanned the room. “Oh, Xbox.” 

 

“Let me check you over before you start gaming.” Jack said hauling out the huge first aid kit Caleb had made him buy not that long ago. Jeremy looked at the huge, bearded man and shrugged out of his shirt with small whimpers of pain. He’s fucking bruised but it had healed over the last few days. 

 

“Nah, I’m mostly healed.” At the severe look he received Jeremy put his hands up in surrender. “Jeez fine.” 

 

Jack looked over him, he could easily put names to faces, since the goons had just talked oh so loudly. Idiots. Then he spotted the guy from the hospital, Haywood he’d heard. The man was smiling into the house through the back door right at Jeremy. It wasn’t a nice smile, but he could tell it wasn’t aimed at him, no the dude was on the phone. 

 

“Oh fuck,” Jeremy turned towards Jack. “Did crazy there pee on the carpet, cause he looks like he’s in timeout.” 

 

Jack looked over his shoulder and huffed a laugh. “You get used to it.” He was rewrapping Jeremy’s ribs with sure movements. “He and Geoff both get like that sometimes, both a little to on edge to be really normal.”

 

“Uh-huh.” Jeremy watched Haywood hang up the phone and throw it over the balcony as Ramsey walked out to, woah, violently kiss him. He was sure he saw blood dribbled between their mouths. 

 

~~~~~_____~~~~~____~~~~~

 

Geoff was impressed by the plan that Ryan had come up with. It was simple and fucking brutal. They had all driven to the hardware store, Ryan giving very specific instructions to Michael. 

 

“Make sure it’s a building we know is theirs, and make sure the blast radius is big.” Michael had loaded the building with C-4 and then hopped back into the van, detonator in hand. With ease Ryan snuck them all into the building. It wasn’t perfect they had to kill a guard on the way in, and hide him in the gardening section, but otherwise it went smoothly.

 

The two men moved in sync, Jeremy and Jack behind them. It was like watching two big cats slink through a store. Silent, patient and fucking dangerous. Jeremy would be lying if he didn’t say it shot some excitement and fear through him.  

 

Their first objective was to get Jeremy on one of the high rafters which turned out to be a trick in timing and quickness. They had to watch the guards from the lower industrial shelves, use a ladder to get to the third shelf and then boost the sniper up onto the next shelf, and pass the ladder up so he could get to the rafters. It took them six tries, and three smashed fingers but eventually Jeremy was stationed on the rafters where he walked around up high for a while until he murmured into his ear piece that he was positioned .

 

After that it was amazingly simple, they each had a role to play. Geoff was to run distraction, Michael had panted smaller bombs on certain shelves, and Jack was on hostage duty. Jeremy had spotted them in the back rooms, two guards presiding over them. Ryan knew he wanted to to most of the leg work, and the others understood. He was supposed to have come alone, but it wouldn’t stop them from killing anyone who came their way. 

 

“Dan is mine. Do not touch him.” Ryan had loomed over them, eyes a bright blue behind his skull mask. Geoff had nodded and the others had followed suit. 

 

It was strange, Ryan pondered, to have the two month war coming to an end so strangely. In a place that he had thought he could live a normal life in. But he accepted it as he did most of the strange things. 

 

When six o’clock finally rolled around Ryan killed the lights from the fuse box, and began moving. It was easy, and quite amusing watching Geoff luring the mercenaries into their traps. He stood and watched the mercenary advanced on Geoff, who was laying on the floor as if dead. Like a crocodile, Ryan laughed remembering Jack’s comparison. So true. The first dying by a barbed wire noose, that hefted up to the second shelf where Ryan happily watched the life drain from his eyes. Sliding down the opposite side he watched another merc. Come walking under the body and he stood waiting as the man lined up with the end of a lamp post he had sharpened. 

 

The slide of the metal into the man’s jugular made Ryan grin behind his mask, but he had to quickly run as it seemed as if Dan had found him. Raining a sprinkling of bullets on him, clipping his shoulder. As silently as he could he slipped through the bottom shelves of the warehouse, breath coming silently, but quickly. As he reached the edge of the shelves, he grabbed a doorknob and the blowtorch the crew had left there. Silently he moved his jacket out of the way, watching the sweeping flashlights of their enemies move by, all too stupid to look on the lowest shelf. As he heated the doorknob he grinned at the scream that suddenly echoed through the darkness. The panicked tones of the mercs calling for one of their own thrilled Ryan. He could almost taste their fear now. As he cauterized the wound he watched the movement around him, so he could make his next move. When all seemed clear Ryan slunk into the shadows, catching a brief glimpse of Geoff stabbing a man with a screwdriver a few rows back, blood showering the kingpin. Soon they’d have what was theirs and be back into the normal swing of things. 

 

Silently Ryan stalked a merc, ducking into the shadows every so often as the clearly frightened merc swung his gun back and forth. It was easy to trip him, watching him fall for such an easy trap made it all worth it. Crouched on the lowest shelf he tightened the barbed wire and grinned as the man gave a shout and fell, his gun skidding across the floor. The man flailed and then he scrambled, only entangling his legs more. Ryan watched silently, that warmth spreading through his limbs, then he grabbed his knife and leaned forward a bit. 

 

“Hey” he whispered and almost giggled when the man’s head whipped towards him and Ryan muffled his scream with a gloved hand. “Shh, shhh it’ll all be over soon.” He slit the man’s throat, counting down the seconds as he stared into the man’s eyes. When they finally dulled Ryan moved, passing Geoff who grabbed him by the jacket for a moment, pushed up his mask and they kissed. There was blood on Geoff’s face and on his hands, but they didn’t care. Geoff bit through his lip and grinned at Ryan’s dark chuckle. 

 

“Only five little chickens left, kids.” Jeremy’s voice came over the coms. “So stop sucking face and get to it.” 

 

Ryan pulled his mask back down, thumb brushing over Geoff’s cheekbone, leaving a smear of dark blood. Then they quickly move in separate directions. It hurt to grin where Ryan’s lip was now split but it gave him shocks of excitement through his blood. 

 

He followed his next victim, which led him to one of Geoff’s kills. It was a work of art, all ripped insides and torn skin. The man was shaking Ryan could see, but he didn’t want to drag this out anymore. Stepping up behind the man he shoved his knife into his eyes and yanked it out, watching the man fall on top of Geoff’s. 

 

“Pretty.” Ryan muttered before he moved, and crouched. Taking the man’s ear piece he spoke into it. “No! No. I need help! I...need…” Then he moved quickly down towards the back room where the hostages were watching as the two guards moved out. They walked silently in front of Ryan and then into the rigged aisle. 

 

“Blow it sky high Michael.” The responding giggle made him grin wide. He felt the ground shake as the building went up outside, and the explosives inside topped the shelves onto the guards, the resulting fire plume setting off the fire system. He was glad for the fail safe then which triggered the whole building. 

 

“Just one left, and he’s Ryan’s.” Jeremy said. 

 

“Hostages on the way out, taking them through the back. I don’t see Gavin in here.” Jack said and Ryan’s blood boiled. 

 

“Spotted him, he’s sneaking towards Dan. Ryan ya gotta get there.” Jeremy said, a line of panic in his voice. 

 

“Where?” 

 

“Near the fuse box.” 

 

Ryan began moving, making sure to listen to Jeremy’s updates of the sociopath’s position. It was easy to maneuver around, just getting missed by the ray of Dan’s flashlight. There suddenly a yell, and Gavin attacked the man viciously. Causing the gun to drop and skid across the floor. It didn’t last long, Gavin ended up thrown into a shelf with a grunt of pain. 

 

“You fucking prick.” Snapped Dan’s voice as he stood over Gavin. Ryan moved then grabbing Dan by the back of the jacket and throwing him down. He out weighed the man, so it was easy. The sociopath looked up and he frowned. “Haywood’s little bitch is gonna die now. Fucking calling in a merc like you. Should have fucking known.” 

 

Ryan said nothing, just tilting his head to the side, before he lunged forward pinning the man to the ground hands around his neck knee on his chest. This was one of his favorite methods of killing, if he was honest. So personal. 

 

“Hey!” Ryan didn’t look up. “Oi!” This time Ryan did and saw Gavin crawling towards him. He watched the kid, eyes bright with adrenaline. “He’s mine to kill, I promised I’d do it.” Gavin sounded lovely Ryan thought. With only deranged rage filling his eyes, but he knew Gavin didn’t have the strength alone, seeing the wounds on his arms and hands. Lifting one hand, which sadly let Dan get a small intake of air he beckoned Gavin over and laid their hands interlaced over Dan’s throat. 

 

The man struggled and flailed and managed to get out three simple words. “Who are you?” 

 

Ryan smiled behind the mask, but just tilted his head. When fingers brushed the back of his neck he froze, but Jeremy’s voice filtered in. 

 

“It’s Geoff.” 

 

“Don’t you know, buddy?” Geoff leaned over Ryan and Gavin’s shoulder grinning through a bloody face, a bit of black paint smeared on his lip. Ryan grinned as he felt the mask pulled away. 

 

“I’m Vagabond.” Ryan said grin showing all his teeth as he added more pressure to his and Gavin’s joined hands. Dan’s eyes were wide, with fear and realization at what he had done and who he had crossed. When he stopped flailing, and his chest stopped moving and Ryan could no longer feel his pulse he pulled their hands away. Geoff shot the corpse in the head.

 

“Double tap.” Jeremy whispered through the ear pieces. 

 

“Ryan?” He turned his head looking at Gavin’s wide eyes. 

 

“Hello Gavin.” 

 

“What’s going on?” Gavin fell back onto his butt and stared at both Geoff and Ryan. 

 

“You’re ours, and they hurt you.” Geoff said holstering his gun and frowning at his bloodied sleeves. 

 

“You’re Ramsey. But I don’t understand.” Gavin scooted back a bit. 

 

“I was on a murder break.” Ryan states moving closer to the confused brit. “and you’re mine.”

 

“Ours.” 

 

“Ours.” 

 

“But you said I could be my own person and then I just…” Gavin looked wrecked. Gavin knew who Ramsey was, notorious and ruthless. Rising through the underground like a rocket, fingers in drugs, weapons, sex and murder. It figured he’d fallen for another trick, been fooled by some other criminal. 

 

“Hey buddy, I don’t think you get it. You’re Ryan’s and you’re mine. No one else will touch you. But you’re not escaping that.” Gavin nodded wide eyed before he looked back at Ryan. 

 

“Does killing people always feel that good?” Gavin asked Ryan who grinned. 

 

“Better.” The three grinned at each other. 

 

“Ew, get a room you three.” Jeremy chimed in through the ear pieces. 

 

“Lil J!” Gavin squaked, leaning in towards Geoff’s ear happily. 

 

“Hey Vav.” 

 

Gavin pulled back looking between the two men, smiling a little manically. Geoff grabbed his face then, kissing him roughly and Gavin went pliant beneath him. When the tattooed man pulled back, grinning, Ryan moved in taking over. It was a strange relief to be able to do this now, even though it had never started this way. 

 

“We need to move.” Jack’s voice said. “The cops are on the way, and the hostages are out. Never saw my face.” 

 

~~~~____~~~~____~~~~

 

When they reached the penthouse Michael and Jeremy went into two of the guest rooms without protest, and Jack into his own room. Ryan, Geoff and Gavin walked into Geoff’s master suite and stood silently gazing at eachother before Ryan kicked the door shut and locked it. He whipped off his skull mask again, and it bounced across the floor, as he advanced on Gavin who ended up pinned against the wall. Only to be wretched back by Geoff holding his hair. A tattooed hand brushed his lip from behind and he could he the smirk in the man’s voice when he spoke. 

 

“Doesn’t he just look so pretty, blood running down his face?” 

 

Gavin had never understood the violence in his work, why people got their rocks off on it. But then he’d always been on the receiving end. Ryan did look pretty, face paint and blood streaked across his face, and so did Geoff. 

 

With quick easy movements Geoff had removed all of Ryan’s clothes from his torso, running his stained hands down his chest, watching Gavin over Ryan’s shoulder. Then he spoke again. 

 

“We like it rough, Ryan and I, sometimes. But not all the time.” He released Ryan’s hair allowing him to surge forward and kiss Gavin. The kiss was not rough, but passionate. Gavin didn’t feel like he had for all those years. As if he was just a plaything. Even when Ryan cut his shirt of with a knife during it. 

 

It took doing but they finally made it to the bed, clothing had been cut off, mostly by Ryan and laid in scraps around the floor. Gavin was spread out on the bed, his mouth sucking off Geoff as Ryan prepared him with steady strokes of his fingers. Geoff periodically pulled Gavin away from his cock and kissed him, or kissed Ryan over his back. Then he moved back completely as Ryan began to pound Gavin into the bed, lazily stroking himself as he watched. 

 

They were so great, Geoff grinned. Watching as Ryan’s facepaint streaked off his face. He missed the blood on his hands but hadn’t wanted to risk it. When Gavin came a shuddering gasp of Ryan’s name Geoff grinned standing up and pulled Ryan off of him. 

 

The ensuing fight was more like a dog fight then anything. Gavin watched through hooded eyes when Geoff won and stretched Ryan open just enough not to hurt him, and bottomed out. The silent scream that seemed to stretch as Geoff bottomed out made Ryan look so lovely. They made quite a lovely picture, Geoff holding Ryan’s ponytail as he fucked him hard. With a grin Gavin slid beneath Ryan and took him into his mouth. The Vagabond came first shaking through his orgasm followed quickly by Geoff, who slumped to the side and Gavin slid away to let Ryan slump forward onto the pillows. 

 

The three were quiet for a moment before Geoff sighed. 

 

“We ruined my white blankets.” 

 

Gavin laughed until his sides hurt, more so when Geoff decided he needed to be tickled and poked for insulting his bedding sensibilities. 

 

~~~~_____~~~~~_____~~~

 

They spent a week getting to know each other more. All laid in Geoff’s bed cuddled or sprawled, standing on the balcony and all around the penthouse. 

 

“I’m sorry if we scared you, say you’re ours.” Ryan mumbled this into Gavin’s neck in bed one night. Geoff hummed in agreement. “We aren’t exactly normal.” 

 

“I’d rather be here and be yours I guess. It’s not like I’m your slave or anythin’ right? You’re mine just as much as I’m yours. And I’m possessive just as much as you. What’s mine is mine and I protect it.” Geoff hummed in response. 

 

“I need to finish this.” Ryan suddenly said, and had two pairs of eyes on him. “I’m going after Burns.” 

 

“He’s out of my city…”Geoff began. 

 

“But he’ll be back, that prick always comes back.” Gavin said solidly. 

 

“I’ll leave tomorrow and be back in a week.” 

 

“Don’t die, asshole.”

 

“Yeh you big donut.” 

 

“I’ll try.” Ryan’s fingers tapped on Gavin’s chest. Tap--tap--tap--tap--tap. Gavin grinned through his split lip, courtesy of Geoff. 

 

~~~~____~~~~_____~~~~

 

Burnie stood in his marble shower, water running over his body from the cascade shower head. Shit had got tits up so fast he hadn’t been able to salvage anything from Los Santos to fucking Liberty city. He’d kill and wipe out the Fake AH Crew, take back everything that had been lost. They thought they had won so easy. Killing off his crews, his attack dog, and burning his property. They’d get was was coming to them sooner rather than later. He just needed a few more plans in place before… The lights flickered overhead, once, twice, three times, four and then five. Burnie slowly turned off the shower and leaned out into the dark room. The light flickered again and he saw a figure sitting in the vanity chair. The face was handsome he could tell but smeared with facepaint. 

 

“Grab a towel, the gun is gone.” The man said and flicked the light again. 

 

“So it’s you then? Haywood was your name right?” The lights flickered again. “You won, what could my death possibly bring you?” 

 

“Peace. I suppose.” Ryan’s voice was calm, he flicked the light again. 

 

“Peace has a hefty price, but I can pay you.” The light flickered again. “Name your price.” 

 

There was no answer, just the sound of running water. Slowly Burnie snuck over to the light switch and flipped the light back on. The man was gone. The kingpin smirked he knew he could get everything back. Walking over to the overflowing sink he reached to turn off the water. Unknowingly stepping on the wires that were now sitting in the puddle. 

 

Ryan smirked as the lights in the house flickered dark briefly, he passed every servant and guard he had killed in silence. Placing his mask back on he grinned to himself. 

 

“Just a smear on the pavement.” 

 

~~~~___~~~~~____~~~~~

 

Everyone in Los Santos knew that if you crossed The Fake AH Crew, you’d be dead. If

Vagabond didn’t get you, and if Ramsey was out of luck, the shapeshifter Jack will rip down your life. If that doesn’t work they’d send in Vav. A sweet little thing who knew how to play up the helpless victim, or the sex toy. Before he’d slit your throat. Or you’d just get sniped walking to get a coffee or to take a shit, or while taking a shit, Brownman thought the last the funniest. Last but not least you could just get shot up, blown up or straight up beat up by Mogar, who had ripped through more small crews than anyone else. 

 

The motto of Los Santos was, keep your head low, don’t ask questions and don’t fuck with Fake AH. Most people got this, understood it and followed it like a religion. But those who didn’t learned fast, and even sometime those who did didn’t last. 

 

The Fake AH Crew was crazy, they loved violence, money, sex and blood. No one was gonna rip them down anytime soon. Not without a fight. 


	2. Michael's Story

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When he turned his head he felt like he was about to shit his pants. Geoff Ramsey stood next to him, fully turned towards him and as still as a statue. The guy looked fucking scary, eyes flashing in the strobes, black suit seeming to suck in the light. Looked like a fucking demon, or the devil. If Michael hadn’t been scared out of his fucking mind he would have laughed. But the guy looked evil. Pure fucking evil. He’d heard about the laughing mob boss, the way he seemed too dumb to be the real head of things. How people thought he was soft under everything. But Michael knew that you didn’t get that powerful with laughs and hugs. Seeing the fucking devil staring at him, eyes blank and heavy it made his heart pick up pace.

When Michael was a kid he was all red hair and freckles, glasses askew. And he had thought that being a cop was the best fucking thing.Though he also thought the rent-a-cops in the mall were also real cops. Which was the stupidest shit ever. But hey he was a dumbass kid. No hating. His ma had thought it was a hoot though, had told him that she’d be proud if he became a cop. He believed her right up until he turned fifteen and found out he was better suited for the other side of the law. It wasn’t like he went from being a dumbass teen chugging energy drink for fifteen bucks, to robbing a store in one go. Oh no. It was fucking a long road.

 

It started when his dad fucking split, in the middle of the night. Just fucking packed his shit and left. Michael found out when he came down stairs, excited for school, to find his mom sitting at the kitchen table, drunk and crying. It hadn’t been hard to figure out why, he noticed little things soon enough. Like how his dad’s shoes were gone, and so was his car. School that day he got into his first fist fight, broke some asshole’s jaw. It had been the most satisfying thing he’d ever done, and that included getting all those achievements in four hours that one time. The kid hit the pavement in the bus lot like a sack of bricks, and everyone else was wide eyed, even while he breathed heavily from his nose. Willing someone to come at him again.

 

He’d been suspended for two weeks, and the kid had been in the hospital. Michael refused to write an apology letter, that asshole had fucking picked on him, and beat him up through most of his academic career. So he could go eat shit and die, for all Michael could care. He had to take anger management classes too, even though he had never fought before. The other kid’s parents were some of those hippie weirdos. Basically they wouldn’t sue if he took those classes. So he did it, so his mom would be okay. Even though they drove him crazy.

 

Six months of those classes probably made him more rage filled than anything else. After the summer, when he returned for his senior year people gave him a wide berth. It was amazing, seeing people scared of him. When once he had been made fun of for being short and stocky now people realised all that was muscle and rage. He never did graduate, his ma got involved with the wrong people. Having turned from alcohol, to heroin soon after his dad had left. New Jersey wasn’t that bad when it came to gangs, but these small time drug dealers had learned what people in his school had. Finding them with his mom, at gunpoint, in their kitchen made him see red. When he finally came back to himself, the leader was dead at his feet and he was staring into the frightened eyes of his mom. He took over that small drug ring.

 

They feared him. Rumors of the Hulk like rage that coursed through him was enough for people to take him seriously. Money was steady and he stopped going to school. The fuck did they know anyways. Soon though it became apparent that his little ring was a small fish, so he did what any good businessman did. He expanded into arms dealing, found out how much he loved explosions. The first time he blew up another person’s deal it was like the rush that he could never get, even when he did drugs. It wasn’t all that big, but he made a name for himself in the underground. People knew him. Knew that his products were good and knew not to fuck with him. He’d beat enough people to death, shot them or just ruined their shit to get a reputation.

 

It all came to an end when his own crew betrayed him. Came at him, tried to kill him. All that was left of them in the end was burning rubble, and blood on his knuckles. His mom was dead already, they’d killed her first. With very little remorse he left and headed west. He’d heard rumors about him as he went, using his little nest egg. How his crew was dead, and he was nowhere to be found. People picked up on the fact he’d been betrayed, and they mocked his old crew. Hadn’t they known? That Mogar would kill them? That no one ever stood a chance against the pillar of rage that made up his mind? It made Michael want to laugh.

 

Fuck them.

 

~~~~____~~~~~____~~~~

 

When he first arrived in Los Santos he was sick and tired. He’d gone through a fucking horrible withdrawal for three weeks in a motel in Nebraska. It didn’t stop him from wanting more drugs, but he knew that he didn’t want to go through that again. The horrible hallucinations had been the worse, and he was pretty sure he was only alive because of the elderly couple who owned the motel had come to check on him. They had been so worried, saying that he was so young. That he had to have had a hard life, to be so sad. It was the first time Michael could remember being scared out of his mind.

 

All he could remember was the ghost of his mother telling him how she was so disappointed. How she had wanted him to be a cop. How his crew had come to finish him off. How the old lady had said he was just so young.

 

At nineteen he was sure he was going to die, choking on his own puke in a shitty motel room. He wouldn’t have minded really. Looking back he’d been fine, knowing he was going to die. He was just scared of what would happen to him afterward. Was there a heaven? Would he get in? He hadn’t gone to church since he was a kid, when his dad would hand him candy out of his pocket to keep him quiet so the preacher could talk. He’d probably not even see the gate. That had scared him at first, but in the end he had laughed. He’d killed and hurt. Now he was scared of some fucking bearded asshole? Fuck him.

 

When he’d come back to himself the old lady, Maria had made him rest. Fed him food and made sure he was feeling good. Turned out she had been a junkie a long time ago, when everything was new and it was all free love. Her husband had made him help fix up some cars. After those first three weeks, it turned into almost three months. Three months where he felt almost normal, learned more than ever about cars, and how to get any engine running, and how to make a fucking pie. It was a good time, he’d promised Maria that he’d stay off drugs. But she knew what he was, she’d found his guns in his old beat up car trunk. Her husband Frank, who was like twenty years older than his wife, had patted his back.

 

He’d learned quickly that the man had been a crime boss at some point. He never said who he was but the grin he gave the younger man made Michael grin back. He’d learned how to fix guns then too, how to rig more and more insane explosives. Never more thankful for the junk yard the couple owned than when he and Frank used to blow up shitty old cars. It was like having a strange grandparent. But Maria always cleaned their little burns, and stuffed them full of food. Talking about how her boys were just so dumb. He picked up smoking from Frank too, who said it was something for when everything else was fucking horrible.

 

Three months and he felt like his brain was going to fry suddenly. Everything was suddenly too quiet, and Michael told them he was going to leave. They had smiled, given him a fucking shit ton of cash and sent him off in a old mustang. It was surreal looking in his rearview as he drove away, a couple jovially waving at him as he drove to his future. One they knew was going to be full of violence of crime. They had made him promise to avoid heroin, and be careful. He hoped he wouldn’t disappoint them, but as he drove through the city limits of Los Santos it seemed like anything was possible.

 

~~~____~~~~____~~~~

 

When he finally got settled. Meaning he found a hotel that was at least passable and got a room Michael decided to do some club hopping. It was, he knew, the best way to figure out a city without being too obvious. When he had walked into the first club, something in little Italy it had been all pounding bass and flashing lights.

 

Looking around the room, he could easily pick out who was a gang member and who was the leaders. The club itself was packed, and people brushed against him. Even at nineteen people didn’t really glance his way, and it made it easier to observe. The crew there was small, maybe ten guys and they were peddling street drugs. The way they were shifting, this tiny group in a dark corner Michael would guess that they were in someone else’s turf. Personally it was hilarious how obvious they were being, anyone with eyes could tell what they were doing. Michael decided to lean on a pillar and watch, arms crossed. These guys were top notch stupid. He stood there for a few minutes, until he felt someone staring at him.

 

When he turned his head he felt like he was about to shit his pants. Geoff Ramsey stood next to him, fully turned towards him and as still as a statue. The guy looked fucking scary, eyes flashing in the strobes, black suit seeming to suck in the light. Looked like a fucking demon, or the devil. If Michael hadn’t been scared out of his fucking mind he would have laughed. But the guy looked evil. Pure fucking evil. He’d heard about the laughing mob boss, the way he seemed too dumb to be the real head of things. How people thought he was soft under everything. But Michael knew that you didn’t get that powerful with laughs and hugs. Seeing the fucking devil staring at him, eyes blank and heavy it made his heart pick up pace.

 

“Your crew making a good profit?” The man’s voice wasn’t what he thought it would be, a little lighter and not the deep boom he had imagined. Then the words caught up to him. His crew? Ramsey thought they were his? Oh shit! He had just been standing there watching them, laughing to himself. He supposed to anyone else it might look like he was the crew leader, laughing at their antics. But shit. That is not what he wanted, especially if said person assuming was one of the rising leaders of Los Santos. He was going to die right now, and well that was a nice day trip.

 

“Uh yeah, not my crew.” Michael said with a shrug. Geoff’s eyebrows raised, and then his eyes narrowed. “Trust me, I’d never want to be part of such a shit crew.” Michael broke eye contact and looked at the idiots again. “They know they’re in someone else's turf, look how shifty they look. But they’re still blatantly selling fucking pills.”

 

Michael chanced another look at the silent man next to him, and found that Ramsey was still staring at him. But then Geoff turned away and seemed to disappear into the crowd. Wasn’t that terrifying. The guy seemed to just fade into the mist like Lucifer himself. Without even a backward glance he left the club. He didn’t need this shit, one day into being here. It was a hell of a meeting for his first night in the city he thought as he slid into his beat up car. Holy fuck. It was clear Ramsey didn’t believe him, and now he had an enemy of sorts. Not that he fucking wanted Ramsey as his enemy, but fuck. Well this was just dandy.

 

~~~~~____~~~~~____~~~~

 

Michael decided to stay low for a bit, got a job as a mechanic. They were impressed at his knowledge, started handing him harder and harder jobs. The kid could tell they were trying to find his breaking point, but Frank had been harsher and less than impressed when he had bitched out of their projects. He had always known a lot about cars, from his dad, but Frank had refined that into a fucking awesome tool. Three months of intense training in all things car, explosives, guns and pie making. When they gave him a busted Roosevelt, he sighed. It quickly became his pet project between other jobs and his boss, some gangly little fuck shit, thought is was hilarious. Until he got the engine to turn over the first time six months into the project.

 

He worked there for those six months, an ear to the ground. Two months into working there Michael had began to take side jobs. Basic mercenary work. He did security, helped with turf wars. But he avoided Ramsey’s crew like the plague. No need to bring more attention to himself from that corner. Michael didn’t think he’d ever forget the other man, how he’d looked like the devil himself. All patient and controlled. During the day though he kept everything separate. Until that went to shit.

 

He was in the back alley behind the shop smoking silently, letting the white puffs curl into the crisp morning air. He’d fixed three cars in the first two hours of work, leaving a few of the guys in the dust. It was obvious that none of them had formal training, but it didn’t matter not in Los Santos. The punch to the head was out of nowhere, and Michael stumbled back, back hitting a dumpster. When he raised his eyes he was surprised to see one of the guys from the crew in the night club. Behind him here three other dudes, all looking like mercenaries. Guys Michael was pretty sure he had worked with before. They all looked bored, he hadn’t been impressive as a merc. Had just done what was needed. He was in it for the money. Apparently that made him an easy target.

 

“Give us your fucking shit asshole.” The crew guy said, and Michael looked at him with a perked brow. “I know you’re in with Ramsey. Saw him talking to you once in a club.” Michael wanted to laugh and just stood back, arms loose at his side.

 

“You mean the night you were selling on his turf?” Michael said, his heart still picked up a bit at the thought of the devil’s stare as he questioned him. Michael saw the three mercs pause and he tilted his head. “I don’t work for anyone.” He snapped as the guy pulled a knife, it was the first time in a while he felt that rage boil in his gut.

 

“Well I guess I’ll just kill you anyway.” The slime ball moved up and Michael bared his teeth, then smiled.

 

“You ever hear of Mogar?” Michael said this and narrowed his eyes.

 

“Yah, everyone has. That piece of shit disappeared after murdering his crew back east. You ain’t him, not big enough. Nice try asshole.” The crew member took a stab at him and Michael dodged to the right.

 

“You remember what his choice weapon was?” Michael dodged again, he wanted to see that fear overtake the guys face, the way the mercs were sort of staring at him, measuring.

 

“Brass knuckles that say fuck , you idiot.” Michael grabbed him then, wrenching the knife out of his hand and throwing it down. He let a sneer come to his face, as he hefted the guy in the air.

 

“Nice to meet you.” He snapped taking his brass knuckles out and feeling the guys face give way. The mercs had pulled guns and were wearily standing a few more feet back. The guy was laying on the floor, unmoving. Dead. Michael turned fully to face them. He could feel blood streaking down his face and hands, and he smiled. All teeth.

 

“You’re really Mogar.” Said another one, he looked young. Younger than Michael, now almost twenty. Michael nodded once, and stood up fully. “We- we didn’t know.” The merc. stuttered and Michael grinned harshly.

 

“Well it doesn’t fucking matter now, I’m going to kill you.” Michael then shot them, having taken the gun from the dead asshole. The headshots were clear and it calmed something in his gut that he hadn’t noticed before. Like the violence was nice, just pure violence on it’s own. Though during his off hours work he’d killed people it was the physical part, the beating the guy that had worked. Then he remembered that he was at work, that he had to hide to bodies. Then someone spoke.

 

“Well, that was interesting.” Michael whipped around, gun already at the ready, only to see some bespeckled guy with a big ginger beard. Though it was a little harder to recognize him he knew he was looking at Jack Pattillo, Ramsey’s right hand. Michael narrowed his eyes into slits.

 

“The fuck you want?” He was so past done at this point Michael didn’t really care that he was threatening one of the guys who was ripping apart the city and rebuilding it like a messed up lego set. The dude raised his hands and smiled charmingly at him.

 

“Nothing.” Then he walked backwards out of the alley and was gone. Michael stood there for a second, breathing heavily out of his nose. Then he looked back at the bodies and sighed. Quickly he wiped his hands on one of the dead guy’s chest and went back in, tucking the gun under his shirt.

 

He told his boss he didn’t feel good and left. Looped back, picked up the bodies in a few bin bags he nicked and put them in his car. It wasn’t hard to find somewhere to dump them without being noticed. He got back to his apartment, having thrown the gun in water on his way back. He’d burnt the bodies in the middle of the desert and covered them with sand. It had been six hours. Six hours of just being so mad at himself for not planning for this type of shit. He knew he had gotten Ramsey’s attention now so he had to be more careful now that it was obvious that he would be pulled further in than he wanted to go at this point.

 

He sat on his couch, head in hands. He didn’t feel guilty of killing, hell no. No he felt like he was going to spiral soon, it was the first time in months he wanted a hit. Sighing he strode to his room threw some clothing into a bag and hopped into his car.

 

When Michael arrived at the motel and junk yard he wanted to cry. He didn’t, but he wanted to. Maria came down the stairs when he got out of his car. She pulled him into a hug and then tutted. While she washed the blood off his hands and face in a sink he was silent, then she sat him at the table with a knife and a mountain of apples. When Frank came home he sighed at the sight of Michael and sat across from the younger man.

 

“What is it Michael?” The older man smelt of cigarette smoke and whiskey. “You running?”

 

“What?” Michael snapped, glaring at the other man. “No I just-” He sighed and put the apple he was pealing down on the table with a thud. “I was doing good, ya know. Just taking merc. Jobs and keeping my head low. But Ramsey he met me my first fucking night there Frank, and I figured out today that he’s having me followed. And-...and it’s the first time in so long that I wanted a hit….so I panicked.” Michael finished lamely.

 

Frank was nodding, no judgement in his eyes. Michael could hear the older man’s voice in his head, you’re so young Michael. But the guy never tried to tell him he could do so much better, and Michael was glad for that. Glad that the guy understood.

 

“Michael, fear ain’t gonna help you this time. It never does. It’s good to know your boundaries. Know that drugs aren’t a way to go.” Frank leaned across the table and grasped his shoulder, and Michael had a brief of glimpse of what this man would have been as his father. “But you aren’t gonna do anything hiding here. You want to go to Los Santos? Wanna make your mark? Well apparently you already have, Ramsey is a powerful man. Go in, prove your worth.”

 

Michael drove back the next day, a pie in the seat next to him.

 

~~~____~~~~___~~~

 

Michael began to take jobs. Big ones. Taking down whole crews for millions of dollars, and laughing as he did. Mogar was back, and everyone knew it. The ripple of his name rolled through the city like a tidal wave. He didn’t take every job, and he still worked as a mechanic. He didn’t need the money and his boss knew it. Didn’t even pay him anything more than with a few drinks from the fridge. Michael never complained, even as the guy kept poking fun at the Roosevelt. The younger now knew that the boss was proud, which was weird, but he accepted it.

 

He took a job then, for one of the larger crews. He had to protect merchandise for transport. The only thing was he wasn’t told it was a bunch of people. Prostitutes he finally realized, all crammed into the back of a van with himself, and another merc. named Jeremy. The merchandise looked fucked, and not in the good way. The worst was a british guy, who was cradling his arm against his chest and a black eye. Michael didn’t stare, and didn’t feel all that bad. At least he told himself he didn’t feel his stomach twist at the wide fear filled eyes of the merchandise around him. Glasgow was a shit crew, and Michael refused to work with him again. Not only because the things he did were fucked, but the guy jipped him. So he blew up one of the guy’s warehouses and left that as a warning. When they crew came for him a few days later they met Mogar, who beat them to death and dragged their bodies to the front of one of the crew’s clubs. They left him alone, and paid him the three million they had jipped him originally.

 

He kept working for a year, every time he felt a bit unsteady he’d head to Nebraska for a week or two. Get his head on straight, blow shit up, bake a pie and Frank would talk some sense into him or just legit beat it into him in the boxing ring. He was making good money, he’d helped Frank and Maria fix the house, the sagging stairs and leaking roof gone. Frank sometimes sat with him on a car hood and talked about growing up, and when he officially became twenty-one the older man took him to a shifty little biker bar and they got in a bar fight.

 

It was that night, when everything changed.

 

~~~___~~~~___~~~

 

Michael woke up to the sound of cars. A lot of cars. He sat up quickly as the lights drifted over the windows, grabbing his gun and moving down the hallway to Maria and Frank’s room. Frank was crouched in the doorway a pistol in hand, his wife behind him with a shotgun. The two men made eye contact, and the elder smiled.

 

“Whatever happens boy, know it ain’t your fault.” Frank said this lowly, and Michael felt his stomach drop. “Now son,” Michael's stomach fluttered and then sank again. “We’re gonna give ‘em hell.”

 

The front door was kicked open, and Michael watched Maria flinch and grip the gun a bit harder. They all knew they had followed Michael here, were attacking because of him. But Frank’s eyes narrowed and he began moving smooth as silk, looking down the staircase. Five men came into the door and he and Michael took aim. The five dropped like sacks of shit onto the floor, and the three of them moved down the stairs and into the back rooms of the house. From around the corner Michael watched three guys run up the stairs where they had just been. They were professionals, full tac. gear and automatic rifles. Fuck.

 

“You guys get to the junkyard.” Michael said and looked at the two older people, he considered them family. Rage began to boil in his throat, they were his to protect.

 

“We aren’t leaving you, young man.” Maria snapped, harshly and Michael knew there was no arguing with her.

 

In the end they were out numbered, as the three of them ran across the street to the junkyard it was obvious. Frank went down first, almost cut in half with a spray of bullets. The scream Maria let out made Michael release a broken sob. They kept running, Michael limping from a gunshot in his leg, Maria crying and moving just so slow. Like she didn’t care anymore. They were huddled behind an old VW bus, and Michael cried for the first time since he was fifteen.

 

“I’m so sorry, Maria.” His head thumped against the van and Maria touched his face. “This is all my fault.” He wasn’t expecting to be pulled into a fierce hug, held close to her chest.

 

“You’re all I could have asked for in a son Michael, Frank thought so too.” Michael keened, squeezing his eyes shut. “We knew this might happen, even without you. Frank had a lot of enemies, but you came stumbling into our lives and it was a Godsend.” Maria kissed his tear streaked cheek. “We loved you, and you’re going to make it out of here and kill them all. Make them pay.” The woman coughed, and Michael saw it then, the chest wound. Her flower dress streaked with black in the darkness. “You’ll do Frank proud, and - I am so - “ then she gave another shuddered breath and stopped moving.

 

Michael sat there, clinging to her for a moment. Quiet sobs racking his body. Tears he hadn’t let out when his dad left, or when his mom died finally rearing their heads. When it was done he could hear the mercs in the junkyard. He laid her body down, and snuck through the cars as low as his leg would allow until he reached the ammunition shed. With a savage grin he grabbed grenades and sticky bombs. He jogged through silently, dropping the sticky bombs onto the various cars in the yard, dropping grenades, pins still in underneath them. Clutching the detonator in his hand like a lifeline, he’d fucking murder these assholes, then he’d find who sent them and kill them too.

 

When he exited the back gate he hit the detonator button and watched the tower of flame for a second before he was blasted back, debris showering down around him. As he lost consciousness all he heard was pained screams, and it made him chuckle as everything went dark.

 

~~~~____~~~~____~~~~

 

Michael cracked his eyes open, it was bright and the smell of charred flesh and metal met his nose. He heard movement and had a brief moment of disappointment thinking he hadn’t killed all the mercs. He was going to die, and Maria and Frank would never be avenged. Holy shit, fucking listen to him. What was he the fucking Punisher? What a twat. When his eyes came into focus he saw black skull mask, and he would have jumped back if he’d been able to.

 

“He’s alive.” Came the muffled voice from the masked man, who held his fingers to his ear. Well shit, he hadn’t killed them all. Michael’s brain swam around for a bit before he could talk.

 

“What the shit is up with the mask?” So eloquent and well said for last words. The man looked down and Michael could practically feel the guy’s smile. Creepy.

 

“Keeps my pretty face safe.” The man said, humor tinting his voice.

 

“You sayin’ I ain’t pretty?” Michael coughed and began to sit up, only to have the man put a hand on his shoulder. He looked down at his body, well that was a part of a muffler in his gut.

 

“Right now, not so much. You could be cute though under all that char.” The man sat back on the balls of his feet and looked to the left, Michael could hear footsteps and so he gingerly turned his head. Well his neck wasn’t broken. It was fucking terrifying to watch Geoff fucking Ramsey walk through the billowing smoke, a gun in one hand and a cigar in the other. He looked crisp and clean, shoes shining against the charred earth. When the actual fuck was he doing here?

 

Then following him was Pattillo, an automatic rifle looking natural in his hands, glasses still perched on his nose like a fucking librarian. This was like the most terrifying scene Michael could think of after all the shit he’d seen that night. Ramsey had killed them, killed his family. Rage boiled in his stomach and it wanted to spew out his mouth. But he didn’t say shit, just grit his teeth. He didn’t want Ramsey to know he’d gotten to him, had hurt him.

 

Pattillo kneeled next to him and began to fix him up. Turned out the muffler was just a flesh wound and was easily moved out. It was probably so not sanitary, but soon he was quickly bandaged and the masked man, who was frankly tall as shit, picked him up and move through the destruction of the junkyard as if he was strolling through a park. Geoff walked in front of them, gun at the ready cigar in between his teeth, and Pattillo behind. The large black SUV was parked in the middle of the road, and there were two tied up mercs still alive. Six were in line where it was obvious that they had been executed cleanly. Michael was so confused, but didn’t say shit. He stared at the house for a second as he was placed on the floor of the suv in the trunk. When the masked man moved away Michael sat up and put his feet on the ground, Pattillo went to push him back down but Michael glared at him. He was used to pain and the would was no worse than any stab wound he’d gotten. The man backed off and Michael stood then stumbled towards the house which looked like shit now, riddled with bullets. He could hear someone follow him up the porch steps and he glanced back to see Ramsey himself following with a blank stare. Michael didn’t trust him, but there was nothing he could really do at this point about it. He moved towards the back of the house, stumbling over bodies and ignoring the steadying hand on his back when he did.

 

Then he found it, Frank’s jacket on the ground where the man had been using to put pressure on the gun wound in Michael leg before he ran off to draw fire and die. It was supple brown leather, a wolf stitched on the back. The soft cloth on the inside was red and stained, and Michael spotted the hidden knife in the sleeve, still there untouched. He picked it up, and slipped it on over his t-shirt and pajama bottoms. The he moved through to Frank’s study and opened the hidden safe. Inside were five notebooks, a huge stack of cash and Franks tool kit. He stuffed all into a duffle bag that sat underneath the safe and turned to look at Ramsey who was eyeing the gattling, chain gun in the corner. Michael walked over to it and smiled a bit. Frank had taught him how to fire the thing, but he wasn’t sure he could carry it right now, being as wounded as he was. He jumped back when someone hefted it without a sound, and turned to find creepy, masked dude walking out with it.

 

“If you’re done, we’ve got business to do.” That was Ramsey and Michael turned to stare at him. When the older man turned and walked out Michael followed.

 

~~~~____~~~~___~~~~

 

The car ride back to Los Santos was rough. Pattillo sat in the back with him, cleaning and stitching his wounds with a calm that made Michael a bit envious. He didn’t say shit though, didn’t ask any of the questions that rattled in his head. He couldn’t really feel anything other than rage that seemed to sit just behind his eyelids. The other three men didn’t say anything either, though the way the masked man was staring at him was making Michael antsy. He felt like a bug under a magnifying glass as a kid tried to find the right angle to burn him.

 

They didn’t stop at a motel or anything, Ramsey and the masked man switched back and forth on who was driving. Until they saw the familiar skyline and Michael has still not said anything. Even when Pattillo had asked him if he was alright. It was Ramsey who broke the silence.

 

“So, how’d you meet Frank and Maria?” The tattooed man was turned to look behind at Michael. It was such a friendly question and tone that Michael almost answered. Instead he only glared, and Ramsey huffed out a laugh. “Jeez Frank was right about you, piss and vinegar.” Michael stared at him then, eyes widening. Ramsey grinned. “You think you’re the first person Frank took in? He did say you were a better listener and learner than Jack or I though.” The grin was sharp, like looking into the mouth of a hungry shark.

 

“So?” Michael snapped, he was not in the mood. Ramsey opened his mouth again but stayed silent under the withering glare of Pattillo.

 

“What he’s trying to say is he wants you as part of our team, I’ve been shadowing you for a while and let me tell you, you’re very interesting.” Pattillo looked a little more stable than the other two, but Michael could be the man was just as dangerous.

 

“I have some things I need to do.” Michael said meeting Pattillo’s and then Ramsey’s eyes, avoiding the masked man’s gaze all together.

 

“Oh we know.” Ramsey smiled. “Didn’t plan on letting this go, whoever killed them is going to pay.” He sounded excited, and Michael was glad to have him on his side.

 

~~~~____~~~~____~~~~

 

Michael was very uncomfortable in the penthouse apartment that he was apparently now living in with the rest of the Fake AH Crew, as they called themselves. Jack had made him food, and sat him on the couch. Ramsey, call me Geoff had disappeared with creepy guy, and fuck that noise right? The dude had walked around with the chain gun like it was a fucking poodle in a purse. LIke a goddamn wall of muscle and fucking insanity.

 

Later that night he got to see Geoff rip apart the apartment like a beast. Michael had watched the masked dude walk out, bag over his shoulder. Apparently he had just bounced and Geoff wasn’t taking it well. The rage the tattooed man had was, quite frankly, scary. Jack eventually talked him down, and Michael had the joy of sitting next to the fuming boss who was clenching the decatur of bourbon a little too tight.

 

“Did Frank ever teach you his bombs?” Geoff snapped this in his direction, and Michael turned from the crappy show on the tube to look at the dark haired man.

 

“Yah, gave me his notebooks, been adding to them. Why?” Michael didn’t really need to know why, he could guess. Geoff had that crazy look on his face, but in a blink the man was shaking his head and smiled softly at Michael.

 

“Later,” the man’s grip on the bottle loosened. “I wanna know more about Mogar.” The man’s stare was intense but reminded him of Frank in a way, though a bit more unhinged in a way. “I know you’re from the east coast, but you look like the kind of kid that was good, and went bad.”

 

Michael shook his head then let it fall back onto the couch. “This is weird.”

 

“What? What’s weird?” Geoff asked, taking a large swig from the alcohol in his hand.

 

“You legit just destroyed half the apartment, now you wanna play twenty questions.” Michael could smell Geoff from where the older man sat, it reminded him strongly of Frank.

 

“Well you gotta be a good kid if Frank liked you.” There was a weird tone to the other man’s voice, that had Michael tilting his head to gaze more solidly at him. There was something weird the juxtaposition of this man and the devil Michael remembered. He could still see the man everyone feared, could still smell the smoke on the man’s jacket. “I remember you, you know.” The boss suddenly said. “I was going to kill you that night, that crew of twits on my territory. You looked so at ease, so like a leader.” Geoff huffed a laugh. “Knowing who you are now, it makes sense. But then you threw them under the bus fast as dicks.” The tattooed man shook his head and fiddled with his mustache.

 

“Why didn’t you kill me then? Why didn’t you kill them?” Michael asked, remembering the attack in the alley.

 

“You didn’t seem all that bad, maybe a kid in the wrong place. Didn’t seem right, so I just had Jack tag you. As for the crew,” Geoff shrugged. “Went soft for a second. But it’s the time to kill as many little fish as possible.”

 

“You gonna go for the city?” Michael asked, gingerly moving his leg, and almost flinching when Geoff helped him move the footstool and pillow. Geoff didn’t answer and Michael didn’t need him to. It was obvious that the man was angry, and hurt because creepy guy had left.

 

Micheal could guess that they were in some type of thing together. Which gave him all types of creepy vibes, since Geoff was more than a little unhinged, and well creepy guy wore a mask and had, at one point, had his wandering hands slapped away by Jack while he stitched up Michael. That they were getting busy was a whole new level of what the fuck in Michael's life. But the tattooed man next to him seemed calmer, and Michael sighed.

 

“What do you wanna know?”

 

“Well, you got any family?” Geoff’s attention hadn’t wavered from him the entire time.

 

“No, ma’s dead and my dad split.” He almost mentioned Frank and Maria, but held that in between clenched teeth.

 

“Huh. Why’d you start?”

 

“Needed the money.” Then Michael laughed. “Liked to fight.”

 

“Do you enjoy it, the violence?” Geoff’s voice took on a creepy tone, and Michael turned fully to look at him, when before he was gazing dully at the television. Those half-mast blue eyes had a glint of something malicious, the same thing Michael had seen in the club, and in the man walking through smoke. He knew this guy was fucked in the head, could tell that he wasn’t your normal run of the mill criminal, and it didn't’ bother Michael as much as he thought it should.

 

“Yeah, it’s fucking fun.” The smile that tugged at Geoff’s face was no less unsettling, well it should have been but Michael answered it with one of his own.

 

“I can see why Frank liked you. Not often one of the most prolific serial killers and crime lords takes a shine to someone.” Geoff grinned like a shark then. “And you were just his type too, musta seen something in you he couldn’t kill.” It was the way he said it that Michael was very sure that Geoff wasn’t just talking about Frank anymore, but himself too. It was like a bucket of ice water of his head suddenly, and Michael glared at him.

 

“Geoff stop.” It was Jack, who had just walked into the room staring down at his phone. Geoff turned towards him with the same smile and Jack pointed at the man, still not looking up. “I swear to god Geoff, I will sedate you.”

 

Geoff’s face shuttered then, and it was like seeing the devil again. Michael knew now that Geoff had been playing him, which was creepy and fucking terrifying. Not because he had been played, oh no it was because he didn’t know what Geoff’s game was. The crime boss turned back and met Micheal eyes and the look was the same he’d seen in the club. Hunted. That is all Michael could feel and his hind brain, the one from that asshole ancestor in a cave, told him to run. Run and don’t look back. But the asshole part of his brain met the stare. He’d fucking kill this guy if he had to, and even though he didn’t know if he’d win well he’d fucking try.

 

“It’ll be okay buddy.” The older man said, then moved out of the room the decatur still dangling from his fingertips.

 

“Don’t mind him. He had a lapse in judgement, Ryan does that to him.” Jack sat in one of the recliners and finally looked up from the phone in his hand. The guy’s steady and normal look made Michael relax minutely. “How’s your leg?”

 

“It’s fine.” Michael scrubbed at his face.

 

“You didn’t know about Frank?”

 

“I knew he wasn’t some normal guy, yeah. But not…” Michael let his head flop back onto the couch.

 

“The serial killer part? Well yeah, Geoff never did trust him after everything that he’s done.” Jack sighed and leaned back into the chair. His gaze looked over Michael more like he was trying to figure out what to say. “You do fit Geoff’s normal profile, but I don’t think he’ll hurt you.”

 

“Why not?” Michael could say he was morbidly curious.

 

“Because Frank didn’t. And when I say you were Frank’s type, I’m not kidding.” Jack sighed. “Once you're healed up we’ll see what you can do.”

 

~~~~____~~~~___~~~

 

It took a week for Michael’s thigh to heal enough where he could walk without pain. This wasn’t helped by the fact that sometimes Geoff would grip the wound and squeeze, a dazed look on his face. He stopped after Michael stabbed him in the arm, but his gaze sometimes wandered and Michael would glare. Jack told him that him stabbing the older man only made him more interesting. Michael grumbled under his breath and hobbled away. Jack seemed to try and keep between the two as often as possible, though the bearded man never said why it was clear. Geoff was teetering on an edge and Michael's presence wasn’t helping him.

 

It was a dull day when Jack and he were called into the conference room, Geoff’s voice taking an excited edge as he yelled for them. The two other men made eye contact and stood. The room itself was a mess, but the man at the front was dressed to the nines, the first time since Michael had been in the penthouse.

 

“Let me guess, you have a plan?” Jack said, sitting heavily down and pulling Michael with him.

 

“Fuck yes I do, now that Michael is all healed we can start with it. First things first I need more territory, so we’re going to let Mogar here off his leash. Give him a list and see what happens.” Geoff’s gaze was cool, and normal. Well as normal as it could get with the crime boss.

 

“Are you sure Geoff?” Jack’s voice was solid and he seemed bored with the scathing look the tattooed man sent him.

 

“We have enough supplies for him to have some fun, and plus I want to see Mogar at work.” Geoff grinned and slapped a note down in front of Michael who looked at it blandly.

 

“Aw these guys are just sad.” Was all the lad said before folding the note and putting it in the pocket of his leather jacket.

 

“Sad?” Geoff said, eyebrows climbing his face.

 

“I know all their safe houses and shit. Worked for all eight of them over the last year.” Michael shrugged mind already wandering to what recipes he’d use from Frank’s book. After the initial shock of finding out that Frank was a serial killer Michael wasn’t all the surprised. He’d caught the man looking at him sometimes like he was an interesting toy. The first few nights Michael remembered waking up in his haze of withdrawal, the man over him a knife shining in his hand. He’d thought it was a hallucination, but now he knew better. That was Frank deciding to kill him or not. When he went back every time, he’d noticed that Frank always smiled at him, but it never reached his eyes. Knowing now what he had been, Micheal figured the man would have killed him eventually, or maybe not. Maria’s last words rang in his ears, she had to have known about her husband. Maybe Frank hadn’t killed him for her then, because Maria had gotten attached so fast. It didn’t matter now though, they were both dead and He was stuck with Frank 2.0.

 

“Fucking awesome, inside man shit.” Geoff said with a manic grin. “How long will it take you?”

 

Michael tilted his head, eyes squinting in thought. “Three days, four tops.”

 

Jack’s head whipped to look at the younger man, eyebrows raised. The other’s surprise was tangible, and it irritated Michael a bit. True they’d found him almost dead in the middle of a blown up junk yard, but it apparently didn’t occur to the bearded man that Michael had been the one to do that.

 

“What can I say, fire makes me happy.” The smile that came to his face made Jack’s eyes narrow. He’d been accused of being unhinged since he was sixteen. Now at twenty-one he wasn’t even that surprised that it seemed to be true. Destruction gave him a thrill, and although he never got off on pain or anything like that, fire and watching people run in circles screaming made him laugh. And laugh hard. Frank had told him once, after they had blown up a large tanker, that Michael looked absolutely giddy at the sight of the fire. The photo the man had taken was a manically smiling Michael fire reflecting in his eyes. It was perfect for him he thought.

 

Michael soon left the old men to their planning, he had to make arrangements. Geoff gave him access to the garage and he happily grabbed a nice muscle car. It was blue and red and when Geoff saw what he had chosen he’d shrugged then said it was his to keep. The safe houses he targeted didn’t even bat an eyelash when he walked in, assuming he was working for them again. All eight of them, from safe houses to warehouses just let him stroll in. It was so anti-climatic that Michael was itching for a fist fight by the end of it, even if watching every building go up in smoke made him grin and laugh at the people's screams.

 

Two days later when he showed back up at the penthouse Jack perked an eyebrow at the burns down his arm and the lad shrugged.

 

“May have gotten a little over excited on the last one, punched a guy back into the flames.” Jack squinted his eyes and nodded. But there was a look on his face that Michael couldn’t quite comprehend, but it was gone before he could fully understand it. It was different when Geoff saw him, the look on the tattooed man’s face was that of a man who wanted to poke someone’s bruise to watch them squirm. It made Michael glare at the man, ready to attack him on the spot if the asshole touched him. When they made actual eye contact Geoff grinned, lazily  leaning on the door jam.

 

“Have fun?”

 

“Hell yes.” Michael grinned, and the sharp grin that Geoff returned made him grin a bit wider. It made his stomach flip though, knowing that Geoff seemed to get it. The man was unhinged that much was clear, the way Michael had seen him stare off in the distance sometimes, unnaturally still was so creepy. Jack’s caution around the man seemed to just make Micheal even more nervous, because those two had been friends for years. Jack had to know the crime boss better than anyone else, and Michael always felt a cold chill when Jack watched Geoff with a nervous air.

 

“Good. You have a place on the crew now.” Michael nodded his head, but ignored the man otherwise, deciding to clean his weapons. The boss wandered out soon after, though he did watch the younger man silently for a few moments.

 

~~~~____~~~~____~~~

 

The following month Micheal found that he had slid into the demolition role of the Fake Ah crew with ease. The B-team was excited to have someone new in the main squad to help. Though Michael never knew about the B-team, it became very apparent that they wanted it that way. He also met the merc. Jeremey again who pointed at him and then proceeded to flip his shit. Michael never realised how short the dude was. He found himself staying in the warehouse base more than in the penthouse, mostly to avoid the manic stare of the boss. Soon though he had to go back and when he walked in Jack perked an eyebrow at him.

 

“Been hiding?” Geoff’s voice came from behind him, and it took all of Michael's concentration not to jump. He could hear the smirk in the older man’s voice, and when he turned the man’s mustache was raised in the tell tale way of dark amusement.

 

“B-team is fucking friendly as shit, sue me.” Michael snapped, and walked further in, and toward his bedroom. Which was a whole new level of weird. He had a bedroom that was actually his, which he hadn’t had in years. Like sure he had a room at Frank and Maria’s but it wasn’t his it was one of the random storage rooms with a cot in it. He’d never considered it his.

 

“Anyway, I got something I need your help with.” Geoff’s smile sent flags flying in the air for Michael but the lad nodded.

 

“What’d ya need?” He said over his shoulder as he tossed his bag into his room watching it bounce on his bed slightly.

 

“Got a henchman from the crew that shot up Frank’s place, need to get some information from him.” Michael turned around and the smile on Geoff’s face could curdle milk. “I’ve heard that Mogar has a certain way of things.”

 

“I can get info yeah, no where near the finesse of like The Vagabond or the rumor about you.” Michael saw the flicker on Geoff’s face for a moment and it clicked in his head. Creepy mask guy, Ryan was The Vagabond holy fucking shit stick. That was scary on a level Michael couldn’t comprehend, that and the fact that He and Geoff had been banging. Fucking psychopaths in love. Creepy. Michael shrugged and continued on. “I can get what you want, I’m good at pushing the right buttons.”

 

Geoff stared at him silently for a while but then he smiled. “Great! Well we need to make some plans then. But it shouldn’t be too hard, turns out they’re a small crew took a job. All we gotta do is find out who gave them the cash and then kill them too.” Geoff threw an arm around Michael’s shoulders with a grin that the lad returned.

 

Geoff led them down into the garage and to a sleek, bright fucking pink adder. It was fucking ridiculous that Michael let out a loud laugh at it. Though he did end up sliding into it and meeting Geoff’s grin again as they peeled out and towards the east side of town, near little Italy. They pulled up outside a small antique store and he followed Geoff inside. The store itself was simple and Michael was thinking about how really cliche it was to have a front like an antique shop when Geoff pulled a false shelf out of the way and revealed a series of three hidden rooms connected by a small hallway. Michael glanced in the window of the first door and saw the guy tied there looking scared as shit.

 

“Take your pick, I’ll take another. See what we can do, buddy.” Geoff patted his shoulder and strode to the far door and legit kicked it open Sarah Connor style. It amused Michael until he heard the voice the other man used as he slowly shut the door. That poor piece of shit was meeting the devil.

 

Michael swung the first door open and grinned at the wide eyes of his victim. It was a forty-something man, muscled but obviously someone lower on the food chain. Michael knew the guy was gonna play tough, probably had an ego the size of Texas. His kind were dime a dozen, always thinking they’d make it far in the crime world. They never did, they always ended up where this douche was. Michael perked a brow at the captive and the guy’s eyes narrowed, oh goody.

 

“Well hello.” Michael said with a cheeky grin and let the door fall closed behind him. “You comfy?”

 

“Ramsey sent a little twink in here to question me, man must be as stupid as they say.” The guy snapped and Michael was disappointed that the guy was going to make it this easy.

 

“Excuse me!” Michael sassed. “I am a twunk. Get it right.” The guy just sneered at him and Michael rubbed his hands together, mentally. He walked around the guy and let his hand trail over the man’s shoulders and wanted to giggle at the way the man tensed. Michael was way too comfortable in his bisexuality to really get bothered by a dude like this. But it was always fun to push buttons. “Now I have questions.”

 

“Fuck you fag.”

 

“That is just not nice.” Michael ended up standing in front of the guy and let the playful attitude change the way he moved and walked. He grabbed a large serrated knife and moved to stand in front of the man, whose eyes snapped to the blade. “Tell me everything you know, and I’ll let you keep everything attached.”

 

The man was glaring at him and Michael felt a small burst of excitement that the man was going to make this difficult for himself. The dude obviously thought that Michael was the same as he was, some strung out henchman looking for a quick buck. Michael rolled that around in his head for a bit, knew he could use it or he could just rip out Mogar. He decided against that holding that back for a final push if needed.

 

“You had a mission from your boss in Nebraska.” Michael felt his rage boil under his skin suddenly at the thought of Maria and Frank. The man stilled and smirked at him. Michael was going to murder this asshole, but he wanted to get the information out first. “Tell me, all you know.”

 

“Aw did we hurt your friends?” The man said snidely. Michael grinned sharply and twirled the knife between his fingers.

 

“Not my friends, no.” Michael lied playing up the henchman angle. A scream echoed from the other room and Michael grinned as the guy tensed. “You know the gig right? I’m just following orders, and well here I am.” Michael stood, popping a hip exaggeratedly.

 

“Knew Ramsey was a fucking useless asshole, hiring fags.” The man snapped. Michael sighed, knew he wasn't going to get anywhere and he wasn’t known for is patience. Another scream echoed from down the hall and the guy tensed again.

 

“Well you get me, or you get him after he’s done with your friend.” Michael says with a smile flipping the knife back and forth in his hand. It felt weird on his face, like his smile was wider and sharper than it usually was because the guy started to sweat. Michael ran the blade of the man’s cheek. “So you wanna talk?” He pressed the blade in, watching blood bead up on the silver edge.

 

“You’re a horrible interrogator kid.” The guy snapped and Michael sighed as another scream echoed through the hall. Michael removed the blade from his face and shrugged.

 

“I gave you a chance.” Then he slammed the blade into the man’s hand, loving the feel of the fragile bones giving way. The man’s scream was rough and his eyes wide like he hadn’t thought that Michael would actually hurt him. “Sing little bird. Come on I ain’t got all day.”

~~~___~~~___~~~

 

The man broke after Michael cut off his third finger while singing High School Musical under his breath. He said that they were working for someone named the Copirate, and wasn’t that a dumb fucking name? When he left the room it was to see Geoff leaning on a wall cleaning blood off his knuckles. Geoff looked up at him and grinned.

 

“Copirate is the dumbest fucking name.” Michael said and Geoff nodded.

 

“He uses Glasgow’s services to get laid. How do feel about going undercover?” Geoff was giving him a look that said he didn't have a choice. It made Michael’s stomach drop and he knew whatever was going to happen was going to be bad.

 

Getting into Glasgow’s crew was easy, until Michael realized too late what was going on. He hadn’t worked for Glasgow since the first time, and it was apparent that the man didn’t want to lose Mogar again. He fought them hard when he was jumped two weeks in. But they were too much. Even as he was strapped down, spitting and fighting he hoped Geoff or Jack would come help him. But then the needle was in his arm and everything went still in his mind. He knew heroin, knew that he was doomed again to do it all over again. In his drug fogged mind Michael fought to remember that he was working for Geoff. That he had to collect information for him, but he did. Found out who Copirate’s favorite was. It was a lanky british kid, only a year or so younger than Michael himself.

 

When he had first approached the guy it made bile rise at the flinch. But Michael got the information out of him, even though he had to intimidate the guy. The other guy that stood behind the blond one had a steely stare that Michael matched with a perked brow. It took about five weeks to get everything he could, and by that time the drug raced through his veins. He couldn’t stop, every time he tried it felt like he was going to die. He'd run back to the dealer and get another shot, or he’d just cook one up with what he had. He wanted more, needed more. That he was back to this made his mind rebel.

 

Suddenly he needed to get to Geoff, let the man know what information he got. Go back through withdrawal, and get back on his feet. When he made it to the penthouse one night, and banged on the door not caring about the hour it felt like a victory. Geoff answered the door, and when he caught sight of Michael he smiled. It wasn’t a nice smile either, but in Michael’s heroin filled mind it didn’t matter. He needed to tell Geoff all about Copirate, and everything that mattered. So he did, told him Copirate’s schedule, his favorite from Glasgow and all the other information he could remember. When he was finished Geoff smiled again, eyes half mast.

 

“You did really good.” Geoff said tapping his chin with his fingers, but his eyes hadn’t really left Michael for the last few minutes. It felt like being hunted. Michael though, smiled at the praise from the old man and opened his mouth to reply but was cut off. “But I can’t have a drug addict under me, makes it look bad. No better than Glasgow.” Then the tattooed man gripped the back of Michael’s leather jacket and tossed him out, closing the door with silent finality.

 

That was how Michael found himself living on the streets, peddling out his skills for a single hit. But he was smart about it, as smart as someone hook on drugs can be, never sharing needles, never making friends with other addicts. He never sold his body either, confident in his ability to kill and blow things up that he didn’t need to swing that low. He lived in a rundown, condemned apartment prowling his selected apartment like a rabid dog to keep other squatters away. He couldn’t remember that last time he showered, or ate anything that wasn’t dug from a trashcan or bought at a quick mart. He couldn’t remember when he killed the guy rotting in his apartment, or why he hadn’t moved the body yet. Everything was about the next hit, or the next job.

 

It was on one of his jobs that Jack found him. He was supposed to rob a weapons cache, what he didn’t know was that it was Geoff’s weapons cache and that Jack was waiting there for them. The two guys that were on point went down without much problem, and when Jack’s gun rested on him the man froze. Michael didn’t shoot, why he didn’t know but he just didn’t. Probably because somewhere in the back on his head he could still remember being strapped down and hoping Jack or Geoff were going to save him. Some stupid sense of loyalty for someone who didn’t really care for him.

 

“Michael?” Jack lowered his gun completely. “Geoff said you went back east.” The ginger’s eyes narrowed then. Tucking his gun into his holster he marched up to Michael and grabbed the SMG from his hands, disassembled in with efficient movements and then grabbed Michael’s shoulders. The bear of a man didn’t speak, just looked the younger up and down, tilted his head this way and that before sighing, and growling. “Glasgow.”

 

He suddenly grabbed Michael’s arm in a vice like grip and tugged him along to a waiting dark SUV, whose back was open and the weapons cache sat. The older man slammed the boot closed and shoved Michael into the passenger seat, and buckled him in like a concerned parent. The drive was horrible for the younger whose last hit was long gone and he could feel his whole body, and how tight his skin was. When he saw the high rise in the distance he looked over at Jack and spoke for the first time.

 

“Geoff kicked me out, what’re you doing?” The words were rough and it hurt to talk. When Jack gave him a withering glare Michael sat back and stayed quiet. When they pulled into the garage which seemed to be more full than before, even 00MOGAR was still sitting there, untouched. Jack hauled him out of the car, steadying him when it looked like he would fall. The younger’s stomach was flipping and rolling. He needed a hit or he was going to die.

 

“No, you won’t.” Jack’s voice was tight, apparently he had spoken aloud. The man’s grip didn’t let up at all as they got out into the small hall that led to the penthouse door. The door almost flew off it’s hinges as Jack kicked, didn’t open, kicked it in. Geoff was suddenly there gun raised and pointed at Jack’s face, even though he was well down the hallway. When the boss caught sight of Michael he froze, and Jack pushed past the frozen man and all but tossed Michael on the couch before turning on the dark hair man, and punching his in the jaw. While the boss stumbled he grabbed the gun out of his hand, flipped the safety back on and tossed in on the couch before grabbing Geoff once again. Michael had never seen Jack fight, or move in anyway but pleasantly bored. Now though, it was like watching a lion rip into a carcass. Geoff was trying to shake his head, as if to clear it but Jack slammed him against the wall again. While the man was dazed the ginger pulled a needle from inside his jacket pocket, uncapped it, tested it and then shoved it into Geoff’s thigh.

 

It all happened so fast that Michael was left dazed as Jack dragged Geoff to a bookshelf, pushed the furniture aside to reveal a door. Then he quickly sripped Geoff down to just his pants and shirt, took all his weapons and shoved him into what seemed to be a cell, and slammed the door, locked it and put the shelf back. To say that Michael was confused was an understatement. He had no idea what had just happened beyond seeing why Jack was feared on the streets.

 

When the man advanced on him the lad scrambled backward and almost fell off the couch but one large hand caught his pant leg and hauled him forward. Michael looked up at Jack and man wrinkled his nose.

 

“You smell.”

 

“Thanks.” Michael snapped and tried to rip free from the iron grip but failed amazingly.

 

“You are going to shower, eat and then go to bed. You’ve done this before, so don’t fight it.” Jack said already walking towards one of the bathrooms in the penthouse with long strides. It was weird being stripped by the man like some child but Michael was suddenly too tired to fucking care anymore. He’d been on the streets for months and it was weird to suddenly not have to be tough.

 

Jack stripped him easily and paused at the track marks. He checked them over and sighed. “In the morning I’m going to have Caleb come and do an HIV test.” There was no leeway in the man’s voice and Michael didn't even have the energy to protest. He just let Jack fill the bathtub, and sat in it like he must have when he was a kid with his mother. Jack just kept sighing every few seconds as he washed the younger like it was normal.

 

“Sorry.” Michael suddenly said, even as his stomach knotted and his vision blurred a bit.

 

“No, not your fault.” Jack said this tiredly. His had dug a pitcher out from under the sink and was busy pouring water over Michael’s head. The ginger emptied the tub twice while scrubbing the younger man down. Showing no qualms about cleaning him like a kid. Jack was gentle and silent, besides the sighs. “Get up.”

 

Michael stood on shaking legs and tried to step out of the bath only to be scooped up by Jack in a towel and carried from the bathroom. He could hear Geoff screaming, the words muffled but the anger obvious.

 

“Why’d you lock Geoff away?” Michael’s voice was raspy and quiet.

 

“He needs to recalibrate. Ryan leaving fucked him up, he’s losing control and I can’t let that happen.” Jack sounded almost bored, like this had happened before. “He’s not sane, you know that but he always has control. But when he breaks, or starts to slide I make him recalibrate.” The bespeckled man looked down at Michael who was pulling at the frayed edge of the towel.

 

“So he needs like a hard reset?” Michael said and Jack hummed a positive response. Then they lapsed back into silence. They reached Michael’s old room, and Jack nudged it open easily without putting the lad on the ground. Jacked dressed him, fed him soup and left the room. The sound of a bolt flipping on the outside made Michael’s stomach drop.

 

Sweat was already building up on his back, beading against the light shirt Jack had put him in. He didn’t want to do this again. Jack should have killed him, he couldn’t do it again. Nausea rolled through his body. He began to lose time then. His muscles clenching, sweat pouring off him. He didn’t sleep, but the pain in his bones made it impossible to stay focused. He remembered Jack coming in sometimes, but also remembered the waking nightmares that rolled through his mind, even with his eyes open. He missed his mom then, missed her like a limb. Like his heart had been ripped out. But rage boiled into his body too, whiting out the burning in his bones.

 

When his mind finally cleared, he found Jack sitting next to him a cool cloth placed against his forehead. The bearded man smiled a little sadly and fed him food. Michael’s muscles still hurt, and everything was generally foggy. He never met Jack’s eyes, felt like shit. Felt like the biggest piece of shit to ever exist. The first time he left the room after everything, he showered and dressed himself, never really taking his eyes off the floor. Never looking up when Jack asked him a question. He didn’t feel good, didn’t feel like Michael anymore. All he wanted was another hit, all he wanted was to jump off the balcony. Which was kept locked and Jack had the key after he found Michael staring down at the street.

 

Sometimes Jack would go into Geoff’s cell, where the man had been for just over two weeks. He always came out looking angry, sad, or a mix of both. One day while Michael sat listlessly in the dining room hands on the table in front of him Jack sat across from him. Michael hadn’t spoken a word since he’d sobered up.

 

“I wanted to be a cop when I was a kid, ya know. And my ma thought it was a great idea.” The lad rubbed his eyes but didn’t look at the gent who sat across from him. He took in a shuddering breath. “But look at me, I turned into the people that killed her and ruined my life. I just want people to give up on me.” The last words were cracked and barely a whisper.

 

Jack sighed, and it sounded so sad. “I don’t want to give up on you, Michael.” The words were soft and they shot right through Michael’s heart and it made his chest ache.

 

“But you should.”

 

“Michael look at me.” The words were firm, and the lad obeyed and met the gentle eyes of the gent. “I’m not going to throw you out, and I’m not angry. I don’t hate you.” The man smiled. “I’m glad I found you, and I’m glad you’re still alive.” He laid his hand over Michael’s fidgeting ones. “We’ll be okay.”

 

“But what about Geoff?” Michael asked, a sliver of anger breaking through his words.

 

“He had his reasons for chasing you off, fucking stupid ass reasons, but reasons.” Jack sighed again and rubbed his face with the hand not on Michael’s. “We’ll deal with that when he’s better, only a few more days.”

 

“Okay.” Michael didn’t sound convinced. Michael went back to staring at the table again and Jack shook his arm gently, causing the lad to look up.

 

“You don’t have to forgive him, but let him explain. Or I’ll explain and then we can beat him later. Either way.” That caused Michael to give a small grin. “I might stab Ryan in the face next time I see him.” Jack said, and it sounded light and funny. But Michael having seen Jack in motion saw the truth underneath the statement suddenly.

 

“What happened?” Michael asked, not sure really what he was asking but still interested in the answer.

 

“Two severely mentally unstable people in love, or whatever you can call it, and one leaves the other. The other, meaning Geoff, fucking loses it.” Jack pulled at his beard in thought.

 

“Why’d he leave?” Michael found himself fiddling with Jack’s hand, not really paying attention.

 

“Murder break.” Jack’s eyes were resting on the bookcase, glazed and sad.

 

“You love him.” Michael said this quietly and Jack whipped his head to stare at the lad.

 

“I-” Michael had looked up and Jack felt the lie die on his tongue. “I do, and Ryan.” Jack sighed this one sounding harsh and somehome self deprecating. “I may also be mentally unstable.”

 

“Not anymore than me.” Michael smiled a little, fingers gliding over the calluses on the gent’s hand with absent minded gestures. But the lad suddenly realised what he was doing and dropped his hand. Jack caught his eye suddenly and gave him a small smile that Michael returned, ignoring the flutter in his chest. He would not fall for a guy who was in love with two crazy assholes. He would not.

 

~~~~____~~~~~_____~~~

 

Jack let Geoff out of the padded room the next afternoon and shoved the man into a shower. Geoff looked better than he had before, Michael had to admit. He looked so run down though, not physically but emotionally. Let it be known, that this didn’t stop the explosion of anger in Michael chest at the sight of them man. Suddenly he was back, full swing it boiling deep in his chest. Filling that hollow feeling with it’s warmth.

 

He decided to go out then, even with how he still wanted a hit he wanted to hit someone more. He went into his room, got fully dressed, pulled on his leather jacket and boots. Tucked a knife up his sleeve, a gun in his holster and strode towards the door.

 

“Where are you going?” Jack’s voice stopped him for a moment but he sent a mischievous grin over his shoulder.

 

“To cause some trouble.” Jack lopsided smile in return had him all but skipping out the door.

 

Los Santos seemed brighter than he remembered, even in the dwindling afternoon light. Soon though the light was gone and night descended. He decided then to go into a club and pick a fight. Maybe dance a bit, mostly to be a punk ass bitch.

 

He ended up in the same club from his first night in the city. The club seemed so much different now that he was in the crew that ran it. The bouncer all but shuffled to the side in fear, and Michael strode in. The bass pulsed through his bones and made him grin savagely. It was amazing, like a good hit without the drawbacks. Michael got a drink and threw it back before slipping onto the dance floor. It felt like hours passed as he danced and drank through the night. Soon though he could feel the need to punch, to feel bones give way under his fists. He looked around the club for a bit, still moving against the throng of bodies pressed around him.

 

He ended up in an alley later, a group of guys circling him towards a corner. He hadn’t put up a fight yet. The guys were laughing and he grinned savagely. When he was finished, his knuckles were swollen and bloody. He strode back into the penthouse, half drunk and sporting a very persistent bloody nose.

 

The first person to see him was Geoff, followed quickly by Jack who stood from the couch.

 

“Jesus Michael!” The bigger man came over and grabbed Michael's arm but stopped when the lad grinned at him.

 

“It’s fine!” Jack sighed.

 

“You’re drunk.”

 

“Yup.” Michael grinned at Jack, but when he caught movement in the background he saw Geoff who was leaning on the couch to look past Jack. His eyes narrowed dangerously, and Jack grabbed his arms to pull the drunk lads attention away from the very sober, boss sitting on the couch.

 

“Well you’re going to bed.”

 

“No, I have shit to talk to Geoff about.” Michael said, or more accurately slurred at Jack, who sighed.

 

“No, you are not dealing with anything like this.” Jack frog marched the lad down and away from the man on the couch and into his bedroom, where he was tossed onto his bed. “Go to bed.”

 

~~~~___~~~~____~~~~

 

The hangover that Michael woke up was worth it. But he found that he had developed a black eye and didn’t remember his lip being split, but still worth it. He stumbled into the kitchen and found Geoff cooking in the kitchen. The boss turned to watch him with a bored interest. Michael glared at him and the boss sighed.

 

“We need to talk, but I’m not doing this with you hungover like this.” Geoff slid a glass of water towards the lad, along with a plate of steaming food. Michael contemplated not taking the offered food but his stomach was more in control than he was. He didn’t know what to think when Geoff sat across from him and ate slowly, eyes never leaving the phone that he held in his opposite hand. It was obvious that he was trying to catch up on the shit he’d missed while he was getting a hard reset. Michael didn’t think he’d ever get the nerve to ask again, if he didn’t ask now. So swallowing past his anger, which cloaked betrayal and self esteem issues he spoke.

 

“Jack said you had a stupid fucking reason for kicking me out, gotta say I’m interested.” Michael was still eating but could practically feel when the ice blue eyes snapped to his form. Could hear the gears turning in the older man’s head.

 

“You know what Frank was.”

 

“Well since you told me, yes.” Geoff sighed at this response and placed his phone down, and pushed his food away.

 

“Yeah, sorry about that.” The man rubbed his face roughly, then finally their eyes met. “His profile is eerily close to mine. You see…fuck. Okay so his profile is young, white drug addicts. And well mine is sorta the same thing, but I only go after males. Or I did...and usually I can control my cravings. Let them out when I need to and I just…” Geoff rubbed at his face again. Michael was quickly picking up on everything. The lad knew that Geoff got attached. The boss was attached to Jack and Ryan. But he couldn’t possibly be that attached to Michael, not after such a short amount of time. But the lad knew it wasn’t true, had seen 00MOGAR in the garage.

 

“I didn’t think I could control myself around you. It was so hard when you were injured before. Then you came from Glasgow, strung out and looking so prime for the picking. So I did the only thing I could do to keep you safe and away from me.”

 

Michael stared at him. “But I didn’t… I wasn’t even that close to you.”

 

Geoff raised his head and met the confused lad’s eyes. “I’ve been watching you since that first night Michael.” The gent smiled. “I was very interested in you, and I gotta say you’re like fucking velcro. I’m surprised Jack didn’t disembowel me because of this.” Geoff pointed at the lad. “You gotta understand for Frank to have liked you and not have killed you in a big thing. But he was planning it, always was. I think he didn’t because you told him about me. Because I didn’t kill you, I sort of claimed you. At least in Frank’s eyes. But now that doesn’t really matter anymore, except to my fucked up brain.”

 

“So basically you fucking claimed me? Like a cat pissing on something?” Michael voice was getting higher pitched in disbelief. This was fucked up on a level he didn’t really get, what the fuck.

 

“What this idiot is trying to say,” Jack sat next to Geoff who let his head fall onto his folded arms. “Is that you were under his protection. Frank knew better than to do anything, he tried before with me when we were young. Geoff was less than happy during that.” Jack shrugged. “It’s all very fucking weird, but we’re hard people to get in with and you did it just by being you.”

 

“Yah, by being a giant asshole.” Geoff grumbled.

 

“So he chased me off to keep me safe?” Michael scrunched his face. “What is this? A fucking after school special?”

 

“Hey we could still beat the shit out of him.” Jack said this with a grin and Michael waved it off.

 

“Nah, but you do that again and I will just not leave and like kick your ass.”

 

“Fair.” Geoff shrugged.

 

~~~~____~~~~____~~~~

 

It took a few weeks though for Michael to fully let his guard down even just in the penthouse, and months for him to take Geoff’s word at face value. But before he knew it had been like eight months since Frank and Maria has died, though it felt like a decade. They were nowhere close to Copirate. Because although he has a fucking dumb ass name, he was well connected and rich as shit. The guy ran a organization and was legitimately clean. Which was fucking unfair, Geoff said he was a big, baby bitch. He wasn’t wrong. The dude always had like six bodyguards and it was totally getting on the Fake’s nerves.

 

So while Jack tried to find a hole in the guy’s security, Geoff and Michael continued to cannibalize smaller gangs and crews. Slowly clawing their way to the top, Ramsey and his attack dog. Michael didn't mind. People knew him now. People moved out of his way, and he had a fucking chrome adder. It was like ruling a kingdom. But Michael was having a totally different set of problems. He was getting too close to Jack and Geoff. Like having feelings and shit. He liked Jack’s laugh and Geoff’s lazy eyed stare. Fuck.

 

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

 

He couldn’t have feelings, they fucked everything up. Plus it seemed that they couldn’t like him, at least not like that. They treated him like a close friend, but not any closer. And really Michael was fine with that. No really he was, his stomach didn’t flutter when Geoff made him snicker doodles when he mentioned them off hand one day. He did not blush like a grade schooler when Jack sewed up the bullet wound on his shoulder with gentle hands. Michael just had to keep above it all, because it was getting hard to not smile stupidly when he and Geoff fucked about on a job, and Jack sighed at them.

 

But otherwise it was fucking great. Geoff loved when he ruined everything in his path. Michael did tend to leave everything in flames after a job. Watching it burn warmed his belly, and made him feel something that could maybe reflect what he was totally not feeling for Jack and Geoff. He started a snapchat and began sending snaps to the two gents of him standing in front of flaming buildings, cars or even people.

 

It was one of those days where he was ripping apart a small crew when he thought of his first impression of Geoff, and how he couldn’t really put the two together. Like sure the asshole was crazy and violent. But he was Geoff now, not Lucifer disappearing into the fog of a club like a ghost. No, the man was still the devil in disguise, but Michael was now one of his crew. Was one of the demons that Geoff sent out to destroy everything in his path. The attack dog, some people called him. He wasn’t Vagabond, people had compared him to that man before to Geoff’s face one time, it was a thing to watch Geoff fiddle with people until they broke. People knew now not to compare the two, but they were very different Geoff said one day. Ryan was all control and contained power, Michael was a gunpowder and gasoline child. Always ready to explode.

 

~~~___~~~___~~~

 

“I fucking got him.” Jack all but crowed as he walked in, Lindsey and Mica from B-team strolling in behind him. The two women waved at Michael who grinned back and paused his game to follow the group into the conference room, where Geoff was lazily spinning in a chair.

 

“What’d ya get Jack?” Michael flopped down into a chair and grinned.

 

“Excuse you, I found the information.” Lindsey said with an affronted air.

 

“I am sorry my lady, what did you find?” Michael said with a grin and laughed which a pen was thrown at his head. Michael had asked once why there were no women on the main crew, and Jack had shrugged. Apparently they didn’t want to be on the main crew, liked working in the back like a well oiled machine. This didn’t mean they didn’t run heists or crimes. No they just weren’t the faces of the crew. Plus, Mica had told him, people would just think they were easy targets and kidnapping put a jam in her plans.

 

“Well he’s a little bitch,” Lindsey picked a donut out of a box on the table. “But we knew that, he’s like a freaking clock. Does that same stuff on like a creepy schedule. LIke everything is on time, and it makes it easy to know where he’ll be, and even easier to switch out his bodyguards.” She took a bite of the pastry with a grin. The crew grinned at each other and began to plan. It was very simple really, all they had to do was ya know. Get the exact replica of the car he drove, and that his bodyguards drove. Get the exact suits, which Copirate chose for all his personal guards, and the guns and the shoes and the fucking ear pieces. It was fucking ridiculous. Like dressing up for a play.

 

“This is so next level James Bond shit.” Michael said spinning slightly in his chair.

 

“We’ve got this.” Geoff waved his hand lazily.

 

~~~~____~~~~____~~~~

 

As they worked and planned to get everything together Michael got pulled aside by Lindsey. It was only a few days after the initial meeting and Michael was confused because she was carrying one of those thick folders he’d seen her hand to Geoff, but on more occasion to Jack. It usually heald information for a heist, job or hit. But her grip on this folder seem white knuckled and worried the fiery man. Lindsey was one of his best friends there and seeing her so worried was very strange.

 

“Hey Linds, what’s up?” Michael watched as she shifted her weight slightly from side to side before sitting down beside him.

 

“So I showed this to the gents and they say that you should know. So something but I mean….”

 

“Gad damn it Lindsey show me.” Michael stuck his hand out, and waited. The girl sighed slightly and placed the folder into his hand and sat there. Nerves dancing through her fingers.

 

Michael flipped the folder open still staring at her and then glanced down, only to freeze. Staring up from the folder was his fathers fucking ugly mug. The lad saw red, from the looks of it the asshole was an underboss of some type now. Even was married again, to some trophy wife who did not look happy in the pictures in the folder.

 

“You have to be fucking kidding me.” Michael growled teeth bared.

 

“He's gonna be there and the gents were sure you'd want to take him out.” Lindsey said.

 

“Hell yeah I do. This asshole ruined my family, and I'm going to slowly rip him apart.”

 

Lindsey nodded slowly. “So kidnap route, then you can have fun. But be sure to get him to talk, we need more information about the fucking Copirate before we move on with the op.”

 

“I'll get this prick to sing like a fucking cannery, don't you fucking worry about that.” Michael then stalked away, shoulders hunched and angry.

 

He couldn't fucking believe that his father had left them, left her, the woman he claimed to love just to go be some fucking low life. Well now that bastard was going to reap what he sowed. Michael was a direct product of his abandonment. He could have had a normal life been happy, but here he was. A boy with a gun and a grenade.

 

Michael located Jack first and the older man met his eyes grimly.

 

“Spoke with Lindsey did you.” It was a statement and Michael just threw himself into a chair and stared at the now closed folder. “How do you want to do this Michael?”

 

“Personal. Very fucking personal.” Michael ground out and met the ginger’s eyes. The older man was frowning slightly at him but didn’t say anything about it otherwise. Michael was glad for it the amount of anger and sadness twisting around in the lads gut, he was sure that one kind word from Jack right then he’d break. But he’d been so weak those last few months. Depressed and wanting to die. In truth he still wanted to, die that is, but he refused to let those thoughts win.

 

“Michael you don’t have to do it alone.” Jack said and Michael gritted his teeth. “Don’t think I haven’t been watching you.” Jack was leaning back in his chair looking at Michael over his glasses with his eyebrows worried over his eyes.

 

“I've always been alone Jack.” Michael said tersely. The lad was picking at his nails, and ignoring the now intense stare he could feel on himself.

 

“Shut the fuck up, you aren’t alone anymore. You need to go get your suit tailored. And if you say that again I will hit you.” Jack said this like just as tersely and Michael looked up to see Jack’s high arched brow and frown.

 

“Fine.”

 

“Fine.” Jack said and watched the lad leave the room in a huff. The gent was worried but couldn’t really help the younger until the kid was willing to accept it.

 

~~~~~____~~~~_____~~~~

 

The day came to get his father and Michael was ready. Ready to watch the man’s face shatter when he saw who was going to torture him, going to rip his to shreds and get every drop of information. The lad had never realised how angry he still was at the man who had abandoned him. The pit of lava in his chest told him he was still angry, and not his Hulk rage. No this was a low bubbling anger that festered like a wound.

 

When they caught him, Geoff put the guy in the room and chained him down. Tried to sweet talk the information out of him while Michael stood on the other side watching. He looked the same, maybe a bit grayer but the same. Michael felt his throat tighten and pushed the flood of emotion down, shoving it until it disappeared. He needed to be cold this time, not explosive. He needed to prove he was worth everything that Geoff and Jack believed he was. Needed to show his father that he'd become a bigger and badder beast than the man could ever become.

 

It felt like it took forever for Geoff to shrug and say that the man had dug his own grave years ago. And man did the idiot look confused at that. It made a cruel smile twist onto Michael face. It only grew wider when Geoff waved him in.

 

The look on his father’s face when Michael walked through the door, in a plain white t-shirt and jeans was amazing. He paled and his eyes widened. It was clear he recognized his own kid looking at him like he was meat.

 

“Michael?” The man’s once confident voice sounded strangled.

 

“Hey pops, fancy seeing you here.” Michael was proud of the tone his voice came out as, keeping his anger pushed back. Hid it.

 

“Wha...where's your mother?” It was a question Michael had prepared for. Knew that the man would try and get under his skin and Michael just smirked.

 

“Dead. For a while now.” Michael idly checked his nails and Geoff spoke up again.

 

“Now you can either tell me what I want, or Mogar here is gonna rip you apart.” Geoff looked a little too pleased with himself.

 

“M-mogar…” The hostage murmured. Going even more pale as he stared at the bored man, slowly taking in the room and turned back to Geoff. “He wouldn't hurt his father.” The man snapped, sounding very confident but flinched back when Michael snorted.

 

“Is that your answer?” Geoff said and tilted his head much like a cat, a look Michael had seen on the man when he was cooking, but also when he was slowly cutting off a man's fingers. Dead silence filled the room so Geoff grinned. “I'll just leave you two alone then.”

 

The boss patted Michael’s shoulder and closed the door with a hard snap. They were alone, but the lad knew that both Jack and Geoff were watching through the mirror. He had to keep everything together. But he couldn’t not really, he’d seen the look Jack had given him earlier that day when Geoff had announced that they had caught his father. It said the gent was worried about him, had locked and hidden the balcony key. Michael’s stomach twisted but he kept it off his face.

 

“Well, here we are.” Michael stuck his hands into his pockets rocking back on his heels with a knife blade grin. The man that had donated sperm to his creation smiled at him but it faltered at Michael’s widening grin. “Should have talked with the boss man, would’ve saved you a lot of shit.” Then he tilted his head. “Actually no it wouldn’t have, this just means I have to pull this out longer than I originally wanted to.”

 

“Michael you can’t really be working for Ramsey! He’s - he’s a monster!” Michael felt something ugly twist in his chest.

 

“At least he’s truthful about what he is.” Michael stalked forward producing a switchblade from his pocket. “Didn’t leave without a word, let his wife get murdered and his kid to become just as much a monster.” The knife came to rest under the prisoner’s chin, drawing a small bead of blood at it’s tip.

 

“I just - she’s really dead?” The shock in the man’s voice made Michael tilt his head to look closer at the man’s face.

 

“Did I fucking stutter?” Then Michael backed off. “Enough with that now though, we have plenty of time for that after you give me what Geoff wants to know.” Michel bared his teeth in a mockery of a grin.

 

By the end of it Michael was numb, couldn’t really feel his hands or feet. Knew his face was shuttered and closed off. The corpse in the interrogation room looked more like chopped meat by the end than a human. His once white shirt was soaked through, and starting to get tacky on his skin. As he stumbled out of the hidden back of one of the large safehouses and towards the shower he found himself stopped by a hand.

 

“You okay?” It was Geoff, and the worry in the crystal blue eyes was a weird sight compared to their usual manic glint. But it was still Geoff who was wiping his thumb back and forth in the bloody fabric of Michael’s shirt. The lad could see the undertone of lust and giddy happiness in the man’s eyes as well.

 

“I…” Michael didn’t actually know how he felt, he had expected to feel satisfied at the man’s death, even giddy as the man died at his hands. But he couldn’t feel anything at all. Geoff leaned closer the man’s scruffy cheek rubbing on his cheek and then lower on his neck as the man spoke.

 

“Michael I need you to talk to me, we lost you a bit in the room.” The gent had his arms around the lad and Michael was unsure when he had began to lean on him, blood smearing down the gent’s tuxedo.

 

“I...I can’t.” Michael said feeling a tremor travel down his spine and into his hands. Geoff’s dark chuckle made Michael shiver again.

 

Michael let out a harsh breath against the taller man’s neck, swallowing around the sudden dryness he found there. If he had been all there he supposed he'd have called Geoff out on being a creepy fuck, but he couldn't. The words couldn't or wouldn't come out.

 

“Michael.” Geoff sing-singed into the lad's ear. It sent a shiver down his spine and Geoff chuckled darkly again.

 

“Geoff.” Michael said quietly. “I thought it'd feel…good in the end.”

 

“Felt good during though.” Geoff whispered hotly into Michael’s ear. “Felt like magic ripping through his skin, making him scream didn't it?”

 

Michael timidly nodded and found himself gripping the lapels of Geoff's suit in a white knuckled hold. It had felt good, great even. He'd relished in it and Michael had scared himself. But now that he thought about it, it had been great killing and hurting.

 

“You just tired yourself out, buddy.” Geoff’s teeth caught the flesh on Michael's neck and the gent’s hands had wandered to the lads hips. Michael let himself be led away from the showers and to one of the many beds where Geoff stripped him with ease and tucked him away in the bed. The gent then stripped himself and crawled in behind the lad. Michael drifted off with Geoff’s arms cinched around his waist.

 

When Michael woke up the next day, everything was cleaned up and Jack handed him clean clothes. Geoff had already been gone when he had woken up in the morning. But according to Jack the boss had some things to do in the morning. So the lad had eaten the food given to him, and had happily listened to Jack and Lindsey plan how they were going to take down Copirate.

 

They had gotten all the information they needed in the end, and it was easy to plan out everything they needed to do then. When Lindsay left it was just Jack and Michael, Geoff still out on business. The two sat in silence for a while before Michael stood up and went to go shower. The showers in the house were huge and had those crazy waterfall sprays. The lad stripped down and let the clothes pile in the corner, before stepping in. The water felt nice and it was good to wash away everything, seeing as Geoff hadn’t let him the night before.

 

The lad heard the door open and he ignored it, used to the two gents wandering in and out of the bathroom. What he couldn’t ignore was someone joining him in the shower. Turning he found himself face to chest with Jack who boxed him in with his arms. Michael looked up into the gent’s eyes and saw the same gentleness he usually saw mixed with something a lot warmer that ran through Michael’s veins.

 

When the gent kissed him, pressing him against the cold tiles it was everything he had dreamt it would have been. And yah he had dreamt about it, a lot. What kissing Jack would be like, firm but not overpowering. And it was. Michael moaned into the kiss and pushed back a bit only to be held firmly in place by a hand above his collarbone. Jack pulled back and nipped along Michael’s jaw line.

 

“Been wanting to do that all morning.” A broad sweep of tongue on Michael’s neck. “After Geoff left this morning, had to go let off steam. Went and took a peek for myself before clean up came. Was very artistic Michael, have to say I’m impressed.”

 

Michael arched up against the gent and was pleased to find that his dick rubbed against Jack’s equally interested member. They were kissing again and the lad was trying to grab hold on the gent but it was clear that Jack wanted control. Something Michael would usually fight for, probably would have if this had been Geoff but this was Jack. He trusted jack.

 

“Let’s take this to the bedroom.” Michael said when Jack finally let the lad breath.

 

“Right.”

 

It took almost no time for Michael to be found on his belly, ass in the air as Jack ate him out. Michael was a loud bed partner and was quite a sight. But Jack gave as good as he got tongue pushing and lapping at the tight ring of muscle, shuddering at the wanton moans pouring from the lad’s mouth. He had to say Michael looked very lovely, spread out  pale freckled skin glistening from his shower and the new sheet of sweat on him. Pushing with his tounge Jack was happy to feel the lad shudder and whimper a bit.

 

The gent pulled back and ignored the hissing groan from Michael. He got off the bed and grabbed the lube from the side table and forgoing the condom. He knew Michael was clean, and the only people he’d fucked had been Geoff and Ryan for a long time. (Who he also knew was clean from sneaky tests throughout the years.) He got back behind Michael and lubed up his fingers and Michael’s slightly winking hole. When he slid the digit in Michael let out a quiet whimper and Jack grinned.

 

Michael felt the burn and stretched but it wasn’t bad. When Jack slowly pumped his one finger in and out a few times and then worked in a second finger it was amazing. Michael had only ever topped before, but he was glad for it. Only the gents would ever top him he decided. He trusted them, even Geoff. When another finger pushed in Michael let out a hiccuping moan and thrust back on them roughly. Jack took the hint and removed them, and soon the blunt head of his cock was pushing into the lad. The stretch was amazing but Michael had to force himself to relax against it. He hadn’t properly looked at Jack’s dick but it felt good. Was long and thick. Jesus.

 

After a minute of waiting Jack slowly began thrusting and Michael met him, rough groaning falling from the lad’s mouth, mixing with Jack’s pleased grunts.

 

“Harder, don’t hold back on me asshole.” Michael snarled, and Jack responded by snapping his hips in a harsher pattern with had the lad melting into the mattress. The obscene sounds they were making filled the room, and neither noticed the figure in the doorway slowly unbuttoning the sleeves of his dress shirt.

 

Geoff watched them, eyes sweeping over the muscles rippling down Jack’s back and the sweep of Michael’s own arched figure. It was a pleasing sight, but the jealous possessiveness was sweeping into his body. Why he didn’t know, yes they were his but there were each other’s and he was theirs. With that thought the jealous rage left him and he just stood back enjoying the show. Jack was well endowed, slightly bigger than the average man, and he could see Michael quite average cock hanging there. He couldn’t wait to take the lad himself, Jack always complained between moans that he had a horse cock. He’d ask Michael’s opinion soon.

 

When Jack spotted Geoff he whined in the back of his throat, and Geoff moved forward. He let his hands brush against Jack shoulders and he leaned over the other gent, fingers gripping Michael’s hips beside Jack’s own hands. Michael looked over his shoulder then and moaned at the sight of the boss taking them in with his eyes.

 

“Look at you.” Geoff said in a very dark voice. “Couldn’t wait another second.” The tattooed boss took a handful of Jack’s hair and bit down the other’s neck. “But this is a pretty sight to come home to. Look at our boy Jack, all wanton and horny as you fuck his sloppy hole.” Jack groaned as Michael tightened around his as the lad came from those words alone. But Geoff pulled Jack off of the lad and made a rollover motion to the lad who rolled out of the way with ease. Letting Geoff push Jack down onto all fours with ease. “Do you want me to fuck you, Jackie?”

 

This caused Jack to moan low in his chest and nodded. He wanted it, had sort of planned this all out this way. Knew what Geoff’s reaction to seeing them would have been, had counted on it. Now he was being roughly fingered open Michael watching with half lidded eyes. Jack always loved when Geoff got like this, and he usually had to plan it out. Make sure the boss never got wind of what he was planning or he wouldn’t do this, he’d play along but Jack knew the difference.

 

“I know what you’re doing Jack.” Geoff harshly whispered into the ginger’s shoulder and he suddenly bottomed out and Jack let out a long deep groan. “You always play me like a fiddle and I can’t say I like it. Well…” Geoff thrust slowly in and out of the other gent. “That’d be a lie. I do like it, but it’s not fair you rile me up.” Geoff dragged his nails down Jack’s back leaving angry marks. “My little Jackie, being so bad.”  

 

The boss turned his eyes to Michael who was watching with rapt attention, the boy was so lovely. Then he really went to work on Jack, harshly thrusting and giving no quarter. Knew he had been forgetting his lovely ginger, Ryan had always been interested in the dynamic the two gents had. The thought of his other lover made Geoff snap his hips harder. Ryan had fucked Jack just as much as Geoff had. Geoff hadn’t thought about what Jack had felt when the other man left, it made Geoff roll his hips deep and grind up into the other’s prostate.

 

“Cum for me Jackie.” Geoff demanded and he came hard into the other man, as Jack arched and dirtied the sheets, mixing his and Michael’s expense on the sheets.

 

The rest of the day they spent mostly nude, except when Geoff cooked because he did not want to burn his dick off, thank you. It was an all around fuck fest, and Geoff soon found out that Michael was a feisty one, and he liked it. Having to wrangle the lad into submission. Soon though it was time to get back to work.

 

~~~~~____~~~~_____~~~~

 

Michael was very uncomfortable in the suit he was in, standing in his father’s spot waiting for the cunt to show up. When the car pulled up and to a stop Michael had to hold back at the sight of the dude. Huge hulking figure, trying to pull of a mustache and not really doing it and a fucking eyepatch. He looked like a badly drawn villain from scooby doo. This was the guy that they had been working to get at, no wonder the guy was such a pussy. He turned in with the rest of the guards (all Fake AH B team besides him) and followed the guy in. It was very satisfying watching the dude stumble to a stop at the sight of Geoff sitting at his huge desk in the middle of a warehouse. This dude was just cliches for days.

 

“Ramsey, really you think you can take me down. I have a full guard.” The dude had some fucking weird accent and Michael huffed a laugh. “Kill him.” The guy slapped his shoulder with a heavily ringed hand and Michael turned to look at him. He made eye contact with Geoff who winked at him.

 

“Meh, I mean. I don’t want to.” Michael made his voice just a little like a whiny teenager being told to do chores. The Copirate turned at him with an incredulous look and Michael put more into it, flinging his head back and crossing his arms like a child. “It so much work.” Michael whined.

 

“I pay you, fucking kill him or I kill you.” He went to grab him and Michael stepped out of his reach.

 

“Sorry dude, boss says no touching.” All playfulness left Michael and he pull his gun and leveled it at the twat’s head. “Welcome to the shit show, you’ve been fucked.” Michael motioned with his gun and Copirate looked at his other “guards” only to see Turney checking her nails while Lindsay attempted to braid Matt’s hair. Trevor had wandered away and was poking his head into random crates, Mica right beside him.

 

“Chip chop.” Michael shoved him and walked behind the guy, and made a kissy face at Lindsay who did it back. The two had become best friends quite quick.

 

When the twat stood in front of Geoff Michael took his place on Geoff’s left while Jack all but formed out of the shadows to stand at his right. The guy was sweating and shaking a bit. Everyone knew what these kind of meetings ended in and it was like eating cotton candy for Michael. Geoff was a master at this. He was weaving sticky, sweet words around Copirate’s head but under it all was the tense violence that the boss always seemed to hold on his shoulders.

 

“So buddy, you killed some people about a year ago. Been trying to take territory that isn’t yours. Making yourself a little name, all while stacking up more enemies than you can count.” Geoff stood up. “So who is your boss, you didn’t crawl this far up so fast without a little boost.” This was news to Michael but he stayed quiet and kept his face blank.

 

“I won’t tell you shit.” Geoff sighed at the answer and Michael rolled his eyes.

 

“You’ll tell me, but when you do is the choice on whether you die quickly or very, very slowly.” Geoff walked around the desk and stood in front of the guy, smoothing down the other man’s lapels and giving the jacket a pull. “Your choice.”

 

“I…” Copirate looked around and the back at Geoff. “FakeHaus.”

 

“Oh those little bitches.” Geoff grinned. Then stabbed Copirate in the gut. “Leave him here, let’s go have a nice chat with Bruce.”

 

~~~~~____~~~~_____~~~~

 

Bruce Greene was an L.A. based boss with his own crew. So when Geoff and Michael strode into his head quarters with little fanfare it was hilarious. People were scrambling for guns and yelling orders but Michael just flashed the detonator in his hand and they froze. He’d rigged the whole building, and the three Fakes had a quick and fast escape route, Jack on the roof with a chopper.

 

“We’d like to talk with Bruce, Adam.” Geoff grinned and watched Adam’s wide eyes take in the two men in front of him. Michael felt pleasure coil in his gut at the obvious fear in his eyes. It was nice.

 

The man led the way to an office and knocked. “Uh Bruce....you have some visitors.” A muffled come in was the answer and Geoff glared at Adam until the buff man left.

 

“Brucie, Brucie, Brucie. We had a treaty, buddy.” At Geoff’s voice the other man froze up and turned to look at him. “You think I wouldn’t find out about Copirate, the man folded like a card house.” The tattooed man pushed at the little trinket on the other man’s desk. “Now what am I supposed to think about that? Hmm? I let you have a good territory in my city, gave you my support to get set up here in L.A. and what do you do?” Geoff grabbed Bruce by the neck. “You fuck me over the first time you can?”

 

“Copirate was one of our dealers.” Bruce said freezing in Geoff’s hand. “He broke away, so any shit he told you is a fucking lie. He wanted a bigger part of the pie, and a better position. So he killed everyone with a mercenary group from merry old England and then moved in. Was so heavily guarded that we couldn’t get a toe near him.”

 

“Oh, that is why the guy was such a pussy then? Knew you were gunning for him?” Geoff smoothed out Bruce’s shirt. Something that Michael noticed he always did before he struck, made the person feel more at ease. Bruce seemed to relax and smiled at Geoff.

 

“Yeah, he was sort of an idiot.”

 

“Yeah, I know the type.” Geoff said before he hit Bruce hard in his face, picking up a paper weight as he rounded the desk where the other boss had scrambled. “You think I’m fucking stupid, Greene?” The tattooed gent stalked forward, a dark curve to his eyebrows and he tossed the heavy looking weight from one hand to the other. “You aren’t as well connected as you think, people are loyal to me because they know Brucie. They’ve seen what happens when you betray me.” Geoff bent down and got very close to his face. “Seems FakeHaus never really learned their lesson in the end. And I don’t give second chances.”

 

Geoff brought the weight down on Bruce’s head and it gave a sickening crunching noise, which slowly faded into dull thudding and he brought the weight down five or six times more. When Geoff finally stood, covered in blood and brain matter he dropped the weight on the floor. Michael opened the door for his boss and watched with satisfaction as the FakeHaus crew looked at them, horror dawning in their eyes.

 

Geoff tilted his head from one side to the other and smiled. That lazy, knife edge smile that usually put everyone on edge. The gent fixed his suit, ignoring the blood splatter on his sleeves as if it was a regular occurrence. It was though, Michael supposed.

 

“Everyone just sit down, stay calm.” Geoff said as he strode through, Michael left the door open. So they could see the smashed face of their boss. Adam stood up looking ready to attack Geoff but froze at the dead smile Michael gave him.

 

They strode across the rooms and got to the front door, and walked out. But not before chaining it closed with this industrial chains. The two men pulled on the chains to make sure nothing would pull them free and then spoke into the comm unit.

 

“Jack get the helicopter spinning up, we’re on our way out.” Michael kissed Geoff sloppily on his cheek, and ushered the chortling man away. Michael happily bounded up the stairs and let Geoff climb in first before he hung off it’s edge.

“Hey! Be careful!” Jack yelled over the whirring of the helicopter blade.

 

“I just want to see!” Michael yelled back as they pulled away and Michael hit the button on his detonator. He grinned as the charged began to blow, row by row collapsing the building before it burst into a fireball, consuming most of the surrounding architecture. From high in the helicopter Michael laughed at the huge Fake AH symbol that had been painted on the helicopter pad. Everyone would know not to fuck with them.

 

“Fuck yes!”


End file.
